


Sometimes the Dragon Wins

by Rioghna



Category: Witchblade (TV)
Genre: Angst, Developing Relationship, F/M, Gen, Romance, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2018-10-05 22:09:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 59
Words: 134,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10318058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rioghna/pseuds/Rioghna
Summary: This is a very OLD story.  Set post  Season 1 Episode 4- Sacrifice.  If you have seen this elsewhere, under another name, yes, that was me.





	1. Trouble hangs around my head

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BardicRaven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BardicRaven/gifts).



Sometimes the Dragon Wins

Sara Pezzini walked into the office late, already in a bad mood, trying to duck her Captain. The case had ended badly last night, her alarm had failed to go off, and the bike was slow starting. On the bright side, that Irish singer, Conchobar had left a message on her machine asking her out. She was considering where that could go when her new partner, Jake McCarty, walked in and handed her a cup of coffee. _This is definitely an improvement, things are looking up already. He’s not Danny, but at least he is learning._ Then she got a look at his face.

“Sara, you got a problem.”

“Yeah late, I know, Jake, sorry…”

“No, not that, Dante didn’t even notice,” he said dismissively. “Couple of Feds looking to talk to you. They’re in his office now. You got any idea what they want?”

“No clue,” she said, trying to drink her coffee. It was way too early in the day for this crap. She focused on her coffee, trying to figure out what was going on. She wondered briefly if it had anything to do with the weird shell casing she found at the scene last night.

“Heads up, here they come…” Jake said, nodding in the direction of the office door. Captain Bruno Dante walked in flanked by a pair of matching suits. They were both about 6’2” with identical blank looks on identical bland faces.

“Detective, these are Agents Finn and Walters, C.I.A. They would like you to go with them. Their boss wants to talk to you. Now.” His face was red and she had a feeling that when she got back, he would want an explanation.

For once she actually had to agree with him. _I haven’t had anything that even could even vaguely be considered under their jurisdiction. What do these guys want, anyway? s_ he thought disgustedly.

“Uh, sure Captain, no problem,” she said trying to act at least civil, rising from her seat. “What’s all this about?” she asked. Neither he nor the Bobsey twins answered.

“Okay,” she said cautiously, and with a last glance at her partner, she followed them out. “Jake, I’ll be back.  Finish the report on last night will you?”

“Sure, Sara. No problem.” She waved back at him as they passed through the squad room and out into the parking lot. Sara got into the car with the two agents, who neither looked nor spoke to her. She shrugged and settled in for the ride to the federal building.

 

Kenneth Irons sat in his office in the penthouse of the Vorschlag building viewing the morning VCN report. The woman walked into the office quietly, trying for poised efficiency. She had heard a lot about Irons, although she had rarely interacted with the man. Walking over to the desk, she placed the papers in front of him and stepped back a little, waiting for his acknowledgment. He nodded and picked up the papers to review.

“Sir, here is the schedule for the day. I have noted all the appointments on the calendar and given a little more time to the Tokyo call. These are the papers from legal; you will find a summary at the end of each…” He held up a hand and she stopped, a little confused.

“And you are, Miss...” he asked, unaccustomed to strangers in his office early in the morning.

“Miss Leighton, sir, Elisabeth Leighton. I was sent up to replace Jackie.” He nodded at her, a little annoyed at the mention of his former assistant, who had left recently to start a family. He disliked the entire process of breaking in new office staff. He looked over the young lady standing boldly next to him, meeting his gaze calmly. She was a small woman, blonde, in a very severely cut but stylish suit, small wire framed glasses covering blue eyes. He looked her over thoroughly, trying to place where he had seen her before, as well as gauging her reactions. She merely stood there, waiting for his leave to continue, not appearing the least bit intimidated. He turned to the papers she had placed on his desk and gave them a thorough look. Everything was neat and in order. _She is good_ , he reflected, _perhaps even a little better than Jackie._

“Tell me, Miss Leighton, how long have you been with us?” he asked calmly.

“Five years, sir. I was sent up from the secretarial pool on a temporary basis.”

“Five years in the secretarial pool?” he questioned, surprised that her obvious talents had been overlooked for so long and considering who he needed to have a strong word with over wasting resources before he had Ian show them the door.

“No sir, I was with Mr. Kierkengart in Legal until six months ago.” She continued to meet Irons’ gaze, leaving unspoken the disgrace with which his office had been broken up after the man had been dismissed. That explained the summaries and her grasp of the legal paperwork. He nodded, continuing his examination of the work before him.

“Kierkengart was a drunk,” he observed. “Yet you were with him for how long?”

“Three years, sir.” _Here it comes_ , she thought. She wondered what to say, knowing the question that was coming. Here she was with the opportunity of a lifetime, the peak of her profession, and she was going to throw it away. Elisabeth had heard enough about Irons to know that he was tough, demanding, focused, and had a temper that could peel the skin off of you without even raising his voice. Besides that, everyone in the office ran in fear of his shadow, Nottingham, the head of security, although no one could say exactly why. But if she let him intimidate her now, she would never be able to work for him. He would walk over her in short order. Better to get this over and be sent back down than to let that happen.

“And you never reported him?”

“No sir,” she answered, meeting his cold green eyes with her own. “Loyalty to my employer and discretion are required in my position.” There, she had done it; in all likelihood he would send her back now. Good thing she had not gotten settled into the temporary office.

“I _am_ your employer,” he said, a half smile on his face. He turned back to the papers on his desk, the dismissal clear in his attitude. Elisabeth turned and started toward the main office door.

“Where have they put you?” he asked suddenly behind her.

“In a temporary office down the hall. It was felt no one should be moved into Jackie’s office until you had made a choice.” She left out the fact that they were expecting to run through half the staff before he was satisfied; there was honesty and there was stupidity.

“You will have your things in her office for now. I dislike the necessity of waiting when I require something. And I would also like some coffee.” Elisabeth nearly choked, but controlled her reaction with an effort as she turned back to look at him.

“Yes, sir, I will see to the move immediately, and I will _have_ someone see to your coffee.” She left the room with her heart beating like a trip hammer. She had survived and not been sent back. _Maybe this will not be too bad_.

 

In the office, Kenneth Irons indulged in a quiet laugh. She had courage, he would give her that. And she had kept that old drunk Kierkengart straight for three years, so she had talent. A pity about the name, he thought, considering sending her away on that basis alone, but he knew that it was petty thinking and he would not allow himself to indulge in such things. Besides, she was also decorative enough not to offend his aesthetic sense. He picked up the phone and dialled a familiar number.

“Yes, I want you to do a full background check on a Miss Elisabeth Leighton. I believe that she will do nicely.”

 

Sara was shown into an office and a short time later was joined by another pair of agents, different from the pair of drones she had come with. The first one was a middle-aged gentleman with salt and pepper hair, a thin mustache, and an immaculate suit. The other was a belligerent looking man in his thirties, thinning red hair and an attitude that entered the room with him. The older of the two spoke up, clearly the leader of this happy little witch hunt. “Detective Pezzini, I’m Special Agent Robert James and this is Agent Kevin Rowlands.”

“Good. Now that we have the formalities out of the way, would one of you like to tell me why I got dragged down here like I’m some kind of suspect?” she snarled. Her mood had deteriorated a lot during the ride and the wait. She had not had nearly enough coffee for this sort of shit. She tipped back in her chair and stared insolently at the two of them, refusing to be intimidated.

“I’m sorry if you were inconvenienced, Detective, but we have some questions to ask you.”

“About what? I don’t think I’ve had any cases recently that fall in your jurisdiction,” she said acerbically.

“About your relationship with Kenneth Irons.”

“My WHAT?” she burst out, her chair slamming down into the floor and her face filled with anger. What had Irons gotten her into this time? _Dammit_ , she thought, _when I get out of here I am going to have more than a few words with that man, Nottingham or no Nottingham._

“Answer the question, Detective; what is your relationship with Kenneth Irons?” Agent Rowlands challenged her.

“I don’t have a _relationship_ with Kenneth Irons, I barely know the man.” She leaned back in the chair and tried to calm her temper. She had no idea what was up, but she knew it wasn’t good. “I’ve met him in connection with a couple of my cases, that's about all there is to it.”

“Then you tell me why you, a New York City Police detective, has access to one of the most powerful men in the world?” He reached into a file he had set on the table beside him and brought out several photos of her entering the offices, a few of the guards waving her past the desk without so much as a security check. “What is Irons giving you, Detective?  What does he pay you for?”

“The only thing I have ever taken from Kenneth Irons was dinner, _once_. If you guys have that much information, then you know that I have a spotless record, and if you had bothered to pull my financials, then you would know that I don’t have enough money to pay attention.” She leaned forward in her chair, half rising in anger. Agent James spoke up calmly at that point, trying to placate her.

“Detective, we have checked into your records. There is no sign that you are in anyway taking payoffs from Irons,” he said, trying to smooth over the situation. “So the question becomes, do you have a _personal_ relationship with him? You have a unique access to a man that most people consider inaccessible, you walk in and out of his office, and phone records show that you have called and received calls from both his office and private phones. Now please tell us the truth.”

Sara stopped short, wondering what she should tell them, what they were looking for. There was definitely something in the way he had said it, the suggestion that she was involved with Irons in a way that made her skin crawl. They had obviously done their homework on her and she wasn’t exactly going to tell them the truth. But they seemed to be looking for something specific. This was definitely more than just a fishing expedition. She couldn’t tell them about the Witchblade, that was for sure. How did she get out of this little situation that Irons had gotten her into? What was it that they were after? She decided to slip around the truth a little while she tried to figure out what they were up to.

“I have a friend that works for Irons, _that_ is how I get into his office. It’s not a big deal, it’s not like I’m there to see the man himself.” she said, trying for nonchalant and not exactly succeeding. Rowlands spoke up again, reaching once more for his file.

“A friend who gets you keyed into the security system at Irons’ private little kingdom?” he said acidly, throwing down the next picture, a telephoto shot of her letting herself into the back door of Irons’ house during the Black Dragons case.

 _At least they didn’t see the Witchblade_ , she thought to herself. She ran through her options quickly and came to a decision, not a good one, but one she hoped would work. She reached down for the strength and prayed that she never had to admit to him what she had done.

“Yes, a friend who gets me into the security, Ian Nottingham.” She looked for their reactions to her statement. James looked at Rowlands and he nodded.

“Does it track?” he asked.

“It’s possible, certainly makes more sense than anything else we’ve come up with. Irons is not known for his discretion, on the other hand Nottingham takes discreet to whole new levels, almost like he doesn’t have a life at all outside of his work. If they were together, _no one_ would know.”

“Yeah, well, Irons knows, and if you looked closely at my phone records you’d also find a number of calls from his cell to mine,” she said. “We try to keep it quiet, because of where we work. That’s all there is, I know Irons through him. Now, do you want to tell me what any of this has to do with me? I didn’t know that my personal life was anyone else’s business, certainly not yours.” There was an aggressive tone in her voice. The two agents looked at each other and James shrugged a little.

“We have reason to believe that Irons’ life is in danger. We have tried multiple times to contact him, but thus far he has been uncooperative. Because of his position, the number of defence department contracts his company is involved in, we have an obligation…”

“So you brought me in here to blackmail me into helping you get a meet with Irons? That’s what this is all about? You turn my life upside down, get into my phone and financial records, just so you can talk to the man? Did it ever occur to you just to ask?” she shouted angrily at them, working desperately to figure out what she should do. Ideally, she should just walk out and leave them to hang, but as much as both Irons and Nottingham drove her completely nuts, she needed them, and the information they had. Besides, as much as she might want to, she could not just stand by and leave them in possible danger. She was determined, however, that she was going to find a way to take this out of Irons’ hide, somehow, someway.

“Fine, Detective, we are asking. Would you help us get a meeting with Kenneth Irons?” She thought about it for a moment, really wanting them to sweat a little, even though she had decided to help. Not that it mattered, not even Nottingham could help if he’d made up his mind.

“Okay, I will get you in to see him if I can, but I can’t do anything about making him listen, no one can. But if I get you in the door, I expect to be left alone. That clear, gentlemen?” she said, her voice hard and cold as ice.

“You have yourself a deal, Detective. I will send someone with you right now to talk to him, after that you’re free to go.”

“Fine, let’s get this over with.” She rose from her chair immediately, trying to think of a way to get to Irons and explain without a shadow. Sara felt the Witchblade tingle on her wrist, and reached down to cover it with her hand. She had a little flash, Irons’ voice in her head, when they were talking at his home, the way he always knew it was her when she called, visited. _You can use the Witchblade to pierce the veil of the senses. To see in an entirely new way. To extract more information from the universe than the normal human sensorium allows._ Irons voice was so close that she had to resist the urge to look around the room for him. Sara took a moment and a little tentatively called out his name in her mind, feeling like an idiot and wondering what she was going to do if this did not work, or what she was going to do if it did.   _< Irons?>_ “I should call, tell him I’m coming in,” she said out loud. Inside, she was praying for the first time that there was something more than talk to Irons and all his destiny crap.

“Fine, why don’t you do that now,” Agent James told her as he also rose. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialled the number from memory.

_< If you can hear me, please let me know. We have a real problem.>_

“Yes, Sara, I can hear you,” Kenneth Irons answered the telephone on the first ring. He had been very surprised at the sound of her voice calling out to him in his mind, immediately dismissing his new assistant with a wave, to devote his attention fully to Sara.

“Hello, Mr. Irons, I need to see you as soon as possible, it's important and I believe you owe me one,” she said into the phone, looking up to see the agents watching her like a hawk.  _< I’m coming in and I have someone with me. I need him stopped at the desk for about five minutes so we can talk, before you let him in.>_

 _“_ Of course, Sara, you know I always have the time for you. My receptionist will handle everything,” his cultured voice come clearly over the line.

_< And have Nottingham there as well.>  
 _

“He is on his way in as we speak. I am always pleased to help you.” The last shot a direct hit. Sara tried not to grimace at the silky tone of his voice. No matter how much contact she had with him, the man made her uncomfortable.

“Thank you, Mr. Irons. I’ll be there in about five minutes.”

“I will be waiting, Sara.” He hung up the phone, as Ian walked in and took his position behind Irons.

“Sara is on her way and she would like to see both of us,” he said, not bothering to turn around. Ian looked up, startled, and then immediately lowered his head again as Irons picked up the phone to make the arrangements.

“Its set,” Sara told them, closing her phone with a snap and slipping it into her jacket.

“Very well. Agent Finn will accompany you and deliver our message to Irons.”

“Fine, whatever, let’s just get this over with.”


	2. Safer not to leave my bed

The ride over was uneventful. Agent Finn was as uncommunicative as before so Sara just sat and contemplated how she was going to get Irons to go along with her story. He was sure to be insulted by the fact that she had told them her friendship, which they had naturally assumed was more, was with Nottingham, especially after his little proposition. But he had no choice, he had gotten her into this, he could damn well get her out of it. Besides, it was only a meeting.

They arrived at the Vorschlag building and she got out as soon as they parked, hoping that she could gain some more time on the way in, but Finn was right behind her, matching her pace. They went in and she bypassed the security desk, going straight to the elevator. Irons had obviously informed them she was coming, as the elevator was waiting to whisk them straight to the penthouse. As soon as it stopped on the top floor, she was out and moving quickly through the reception area. The receptionist waved her straight past, but as the agent prepared to follow, a security guard stepped out from the other side and intercepted him. Sara continued on down the hall and entered Irons’ office practically at a run. Irons rose as she entered, Nottingham standing in his accustomed place in the corner. Both men watched her as she quickly caught her breath.

“Sara, what is wrong?” Irons said to her, his voice all concern that did not quite reach his eyes.

“Look, I got hauled in by the feds this morning about my connection to you. Apparently you are ducking their calls and they decided to up the ante. They have surveillance of me here and at your house, and since I am pretty damn sure neither of us wants to explain the real reason for it, I had to come up with a cover story. The errand boy in your office is my ticket out of this. Give them a meeting and I get off the hook. Listen, don’t listen, I don’t really care. But fix this for me, or else.” She poured this all out without even a stop for air, while Irons stood calmly in front of her, refusing to be ruffled by her tone or her threat.

“Very well, as we are short of time, would you care to explain this ‘cover story’, as you call it?”

“They thought you were either paying me off or sleeping with me. I gave them a third option to explain why you let me in here, and why I can get into that museum you live in. I told them Nottingham and I are friends, they took it to mean...” She stopped short, trying to avoid looking at either man. Irons’ face went suddenly cold and Ian looked up, so shocked that for a moment he actually met her eyes before lowering his head again. “Look, I needed something, anything. I can’t let them think we are involved. It could cost me my job, or at least my reputation,” she explained quickly as the phone went off on the desk.

“I believe our time is up,” Irons said coldly, as he walked over to the desk to pick up the phone. The coldness of his tone worried Sara and pissed her off. Why did he always have to make everything personal?

“Look, what do I have to do...” she started, not sure what she could say, none of this was her fault really.

“I will play along with your little charade,” he said. He considered quickly what Sara had said, and she was correct, it truly would not do to have anyone question their connection too closely. While it would perhaps serve his purpose for her to lose her job, if she could blame him for it, it would make her even more intractable and harder to turn to his will. “Under one condition.”

“What condition is that?” Sara asked, anger and apprehension warring in her head.

“Something in the nature of a forfeit, really. You will join me for dinner tonight at my home.” He looked at her and at the still ringing phone, the question hanging between them.

“Fine, I suppose I have no choice.”

“Exactly,” he said as he picked it up. “Yes, please send him in,” he spoke into the phone. Sara moved to stand beside Ian, who relaxed his stance, raising his head and shifting to the less formal posture he adopted when outsiders were in the office. He spared a quick glance to Sara and even a small smile, when he was sure Irons was not looking.

“Sorry,” she whispered as the door opened to admit Agent Finn.

“Agent Finn, I apologise for the delay, but I was on a call and it took a moment to extract myself. I understand that you have a message for me?” He took complete control of the situation, leaving Sara and Ian standing in the background like a couple of children waiting for their father.

“Yes, sir, Special Agent James would like to request a meeting with you to discuss a possible threat to your life related to your connection with a certain government contract.”

“I am involved in many government contracts, and I do not see any need for such a meeting. I have complete confidence in my security. Nottingham?” he questioned without turning around.

“Perhaps we should meet with them, Sir. I have heard nothing, but it would be a good idea to have as much information as possible.”

“Ian’s right,” Sara broke in. She realised that Irons had to play it out. If he agreed too willingly, they would wonder. “You should at least hear them out, let him do an assessment.” Irons nodded slightly at them doing their backup cast number behind him, while Agent Finn just stood there, taking it all in for his report to his superiors.

“Very well, if you think is necessary,” he addressed them. “Tell Agent James he has his meeting, but on my terms. I will give him thirty minutes tomorrow morning at my home at…” He paused for a moment, as if running over his schedule in his head, although Sara was sure that he knew exactly what he was doing. “...9:30. Oh, and you may tell him that there is one more condition.”

“Yes, Sir?” he asked blandly.

“Detective Pezzini will be included in the meeting in addition to Mr. Nottingham, representing my own personal security.”

“Sir?” the agent asked, confused. Sara would have almost laughed at the expression if she hadn’t been too busy trying to figure out what game Irons was up to. She felt Nottingham’s gloved hand reach out and give her arm a brush and she glanced sideways at him, reading the look on his face that said she should let it play out, and deal with it later.

“I know Nottingham and trust his evaluation, and he trusts her judgment. However, I know neither you nor your superiors. There will be no negotiation on this point. Tell your Agent James that. He may call my assistant when he has agreed to my terms. Now, if you will excuse me.” He turned his back on the agent dismissively. “Nottingham, will you show him out?”

Agent Finn turned to leave, Ian and Sara behind him, walking a little slowly, much like a couple trying to steal a little time. They both knew he was watching and listening to every word, preparing to report it all back.

“Sara,” Ian said, just barely loud enough to be overheard. “Are you still having dinner with me at the house tonight?”

“Yes, but I may be a little late.”

“Why don’t you just have your partner drop you off here after you have finished and you can ride with us?”

 _Damn, they have got me boxed in. If I refuse, it will look funny and this idiot will report it to his boss. Hell, they will probably  have me followed anyway until this meeting. Besides, I need to talk to the two of them in private anyway. At least the food will be good. But I will get them both back for this if it is absolutely the last thing I do_.

“Sure, that’ll work, if your boss doesn’t mind?” she said aloud.

“I will speak to him, I am sure it will be all right.”

“I’ll be here around six then, if that’s okay?” He nodded his assent, secretly pleased that Sara had agreed to it all without her usual protest. They were almost to the reception area when the agent glanced back to check on them. Sara leaned up quickly and gave Nottingham a peck on the cheek. Ian barely had time to brace himself before it was over and she was starting into the reception area. He could still feel the kiss burning his skin as he filed it away in his memory and turned back down the hall to report to Irons.

 

Sara returned to the precinct and her paperwork, not to mention the open curiosity of her partner. “Hey, Pez, what was the deal with the feds?” he asked the second she got in the door. She thought about what she would tell him and how much. She had not been with the rookie long enough to develop the trust she had with Danny. _He’s a good kid, but…_

“Nothing, they just had some questions about someone I know. It’s no big deal.” She brushed it off and grabbed a file to hold off further conversation. A few minutes later, as the silence was just settling in, Captain Dante called her into his office.

“Pezzini, I just got a call from Agent James. He says that I have to let you have time in the morning for some kind of special meeting. There anything I should know?”

She looked at him suspiciously. Obviously James hadn’t told him anything and he figured he could get the information out of her. _Well I’m sure as hell not going to tell him anything_ , she thought. Sara trusted Dante about as far as she could throw him one handed without the Witchblade for help. She was convinced he had done something to cause Joe Siri’s early retirement and he had always hated her, her father too for that matter, something he never failed to make clear. No matter what, he just made her skin crawl. _To be a good cop you had to have good instincts_ , her father had told her, _and my instincts have always told me he is dirty_. Actually, she would rather trust Irons than this oily cop who was no better than the scum she arrested. At least with Irons, she knew where she stood.

“Nothing, Captain, they just need to interview someone and they want me. Probably because I’ve had dealings with him before. I’m not supposed to talk about it for some reason. I’m sure I won’t be long.”

“Alright then, but I expect you as soon as possible tomorrow. You understand?”

“Yes Sir,” she said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. She held her temper until she got out of the office and into the locker room where she could kick something, anything, to her heart’s content.

 

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, just working through the paperwork that accumulated as a daily part of police work. She still knew nothing about the shell casing from last night and she was having a hard time concentrating, her mind going more and more to the evening and her dinner with Irons. She wished that there were some way she could call, beg off, but knew he would accept no excuses. Since at this exact moment he was the only thing keeping the feds off her, she figured she had to play nice. As the clock ticked down, she looked over at Jake, knowing that she had better ask him soon or face trying to find a cab at rush hour that she really couldn’t afford anyway. She sighed. B _est get this over with_.

“Hey, Jake, I need a favour.”

“Sure partner, anything.  What’s up?” he asked eagerly.

“I need a ride to midtown. I’m meeting a friend, sort of. So I’m just going to leave the bike here. They can bring me back later.”

“Not a problem. I don’t have any plans tonight.” He was obviously fishing for an invitation, but that was not going to happen. The last thing she wanted was to explain all this Irons stuff to the rookie. _Not now, with any luck, not ever,_ she thought.

“Thanks, Jake. You’re doing me a big favour. I don’t trust those lots with the bike and I don’t know how late I’m going to be.”

“Hey, that’s what partners are for.” There was a little disappointment and more than a little curiosity in his voice and she made a mental note to have him drop her off away from the building.

 

Jake dropped Sara off around the corner from the Vorschlag building at her request. She hopped out, hoping that he did not get an attack of curiosity at this exact moment.

“You want me to wait for your friend to show? Be here if they don’t?” Jake asked, hoping for an opening.

“No, Jake, don’t worry. I’ll be fine. You go ahead and take off.” She walked away from him, heading down the street. Jake waited a few minutes for her to get ahead of him, and then followed her, trying to be discreet. Sara turned the corner and headed for the front entrance to Vorschlag Industries. Just as she was about to go up the steps, Kenneth Irons appeared, along with his shadow, Nottingham, heading for a limo that had just pulled up to the street in front. Sara met them and fell into step beside Nottingham. Jake was so shocked he almost hit the cab in front of him as it stopped suddenly to pick up a fare. When he turned to look again, they had gotten into the limo and pulled into traffic. What the hell? What was Sara doing with Irons? The few times he had heard her mention the guy she had been pretty hostile. He put the speculation away, figuring he would ask her in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, if you are reading this, you know what to do. This is a pretty long story, and twisty, you have been warned.


	3. When Trouble comes round

Sara walked up to the front entrance to Vorschlag just in time to see Irons and Nottingham exiting the building and heading for the limo. _Great, I get my first limo ride, and it’s with Kenneth Irons_ , she thought. She fell in beside Nottingham, as Irons nodded to her and then proceeded to ignore her as they walked to the car. Ian smiled at her and she returned it, wondering if they were being watched. She did a discreet scan of the area, looking for anyone or anything suspicious. Ian noticed her look and nodded a little, eyes darting to his left. She followed his gaze and picked up the Bobsey twins again, sitting in an inconspicuous beige sedan. Sara nodded to him as they reached the car. Irons entered first, and Ian handed her in after him, scanning the area one final time before joining them in the darkened interior of the limo.

Sara managed to snag the seat facing the rear so she could avoid being to close to Irons, let Nottingham share a seat with him. She looked out the window and noticed the beige car slide smoothly into traffic about three cars back.

“I trust that we are being followed, Sara?’ Irons inquired calmly. He appeared completely unruffled by either her choice of seating or their tail.

“Yes, the two agents that picked me up this morning. And I don’t think that they are the only ones. They aren’t trying hard enough to hide.”

“No. Actually there are at least two other cars following us.” Ian spoke up softly for the first time. He had been sitting quietly next to Irons, head lowered, gloved hands clasped in his lap. “And they are watching both the front and rear entrances of the house as well.” Sara gave him a surprised look. “I had the situation checked out before we left,” Ian answered her unspoken question.

 _Leave it to Nottingham_ , she thought. _At least he’s thorough_.

“So you see Sara, fortunately for you and your credibility, you will appear to be exactly as you said. When we arrive, I will go in and the two of you can take a moment to walk on the grounds, let yourselves be seen. Will this not back up your story?” Irons had an amused smile on his face as he noted their mutual discomfort. _This is going to be an interesting game_.

“Yeah, I suppose,” she said suspiciously. She didn’t trust Irons, especially when he was being accommodating. “So is that why you invited me to dinner? To help back up my story? Or is this just another one of your tactics to try and get me to play your little games?”

“Sara,” he said, mild rebuke in his voice. “Must you always be suspicious of me? I invited you to dinner so that I could enjoy your company. I do not always have an ulterior motive.”

 _Yeah, Right_ , she thought, but said nothing.

Ian sat and watched the two of them spar from beneath lowered eyes. Sara was holding her own, but he knew Irons, he did not lose often or well. He would have to watch them both very carefully, but at least for this evening, he could watch them both together.

 

They arrived at the mansion, driving up to the front entrance. The driver got out and opened the door and Ian emerged, doing a quick scan of the area. He noted the car that had followed them was waiting across the street, and being none too subtle about it. He stood back as Irons left the car and headed into the house before reaching in to hand Sara out. Ian offered her his arm as he had been instructed to do, allowing himself a brief moment of enjoyment as she took it. He took a deep breath and tried to keep his thoughts on the job. He led her around to the side of the house and out into the garden.

Sara looked up at him and smiled. “Try to look like you’re enjoying yourself, Nottingham.”

“But I am, Sara,” he told her, returning the smile shyly. He was fighting hard to keep eye contact with her as they passed around the side of the house and out of the sight of prying eyes. It was a difficult task, to keep his thoughts straight as her hand rested on his arm. Her body was close, so close that he could distinguish the sweet scent of her shampoo from the mellow, old leather smell of her jacket. For the first time he understood why so many people seemed obsessed with colognes and other scents, the effect was almost electric and in some ways almost intimidating.

“Okay, Nottingham, you want to tell me what this is all about? Why is your boss being so understanding all of a sudden?” she asked him. The sudden break in the silence startled him, taking him gratefully away from the disturbing inner thoughts.

“He is supporting your story. Is that not what you asked of him?” he asked, confusion clear in his voice.

“Yeah, I just don’t know why.” She stopped suddenly. “And why am I asking you? You aren’t going to tell me anything but what he wants you to anyway. As usual,” she said in frustration, dropping her hold on his arm.

“Sara, I will answer any questions that I am able to.” He framed his response carefully. Years of playing word games with Irons had taught him to choose his words with great care, and caught between the two of them, he knew he would have to be more cautious than ever. The whole situation was beyond him. He had done exactly as he had been told, but this had all the elements of a French farce. He wondered if he would be forced to watch as Irons spent the evening trying to seduce her himself. Ian’s feelings for her were a source of pain and confusion for him. For the most part he was able to ignore them, push them away until he was alone, and even then he allowed himself only brief moments to indulge, to dwell on what could never be.

She thought about what he said. _Perhaps I am being a little unfair to him_ , she realised, _after all I was the one who came up with this stupid cover story. All he has done is play along. Actually all either one of them has done was be courteous, and support me. I should try to be a little nicer to him. Hell, he has saved my life at least once recently. Give him the benefit of the doubt, at least for now_. Shaking herself out of her reverie, she contemplated the rest of the evening. Just because she had decided to give him a break for now, was not going to stop her from having a few words with Irons on the subject of coerced dinner guests. At least he wasn’t expecting her to dress up for this little charade.

“Okay, Nottingham, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. For now.”

“A truce, Sara?” he asked, tilting his head towards her with a smile.

 _Nice smile, pity he doesn’t do it often_ , she thought as she answered. “Yeah, sure, at the moment.” He nodded and they walked on for a while in silence, both lost in thought.

 

They returned to the house and Ian took her jacket, handing it to a silent member of the staff who promptly disappeared. He led her through the house into a wing she had not been to before, but then the damn place was huge. Opening a door, he stood aside and gestured for her to enter.

“You may freshen up here before dinner,” he said quietly. After their walk he had returned to his customary pose, head down, only occasionally looking at her from beneath lowered eyes. “I will wait for you and take you down.”

“What is with you, Nottingham?” she asked. Her voice was a little harsher than it had been and he wondered what he had done to anger her this time.

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you stand there looking at the floor when I’m around? Didn’t anyone ever tell you it's rude?” she said, a little frustrated by the change in attitude. She knew that everything outside had been for the benefit of prying eyes, but this whole thing was just too weird for her. “How am I supposed to trust someone who won’t look me in the eye?”

“Do you wish to trust me?”

“Doesn’t look like I get a lot of choice, does it? Unless you plan to quit following me?” He looked down even farther. “That’s what I thought. By the way, at some point I need to ask you about last night.”

“What about it?” he asked, on more comfortable ground now.

“I saw you, and from the angle, you weren’t my shooter. Did you happen to see anything? It’s bothering me.”

“Why should it? Whomever killed Mr. Reilly saved you a certain amount of work, did he not?” he asked curiously.

“Because that’s not justice. He was caught and should have been tried, not executed in a warehouse. It’s hard to explain. I don’t expect you to understand, but it’s just not right.” She ended a little lamely, giving up her explanation. She was not even sure why she was trying. Nottingham was a trained killer. How could he possibly understand? Besides, whatever else she thought about tonight, standing around in the hall swapping philosophies with him was not exactly what she expected. She shook her head at him. “Never mind.”

“Sara, I understand better than you think. Beyond that, I will consider it. If I remember something that might help, I will let you know.”

“Good enough. Are you just going to wait out here for me?”

“Yes, Mr. Irons would consider me remiss if I allowed you to get lost in the house.”

“Yeah, that could happen,” she said as she entered and closed the door behind her.

Ian positioned himself back against the wall and waited. This was going to be one of the hardest assignments of his life. To stand by and watch Sara was one thing, but the fact that she was getting used to his presence was a little disconcerting. He had not meant to be seen last night, but it had been fascinating to watch her and he had remained too long. Ian wondered how much Irons would be willing to let him tell her. If he could identify the shooter for her, she might trust him more, be more receptive to his help, and was that not part of the goal? He would have to be very careful, to find a way to show her how to ask the right questions, ones that would allow him to answer without compromising his loyalty to his master. _It is going to be a long evening_ , he thought as he cleared his mind, trying to calm it before she reemerged and he had to turn her over to Irons for the evening.

 

Kenneth Irons finished his swim and returned to his room to prepare for dinner. Sara was proving to be an interesting challenge. He wondered at her choice of Ian as a partner in this little drama. While he had to admit the logic of it, after all she was deeply devoted to her profession, still it stung to believe that she preferred the younger man to himself. He knew he had erred before, and although he had really not expected her to accept, neither had he expected the vehemence of her rejection. Perhaps it was time to offer her a choice? There were definitely advantages to this change in plan. It was a contingency that he had always been prepared for, but not one he had been looking forward to putting in motion. It would have to be handled with great delicacy. If Sara thought that he was trying to manipulate her in this, the game would end, and he would run the risk of driving her farther from him. This could not be allowed to happen. He needed the Wielder, needed her close. He considered how to handle this evening very carefully as he prepared, checking and double-checking each move like the expert chess player he was. Finally, having made his decision he left the room to join them. It was going to be a most…amusing evening.

 

Ian led Sara into the den, the room in which most of her contact with Irons had taken place. He offered her a seat on the couch, and stepped back into the shadows waiting for his master to arrive. He had timed it perfectly to allow her very little time to wait. Indeed, almost as soon as he had taken his place he heard the familiar step from above. Irons stood at the top of the stairs looking down at the two of them, noting that Ian done exactly as he expected. He walked down to greet his guest. Sara saw Irons enter and noted that he had changed into what was probably his version of casual clothes, a pencil neck dress shirt in shades of grey and charcoal dress pants, not a hair out of place. _He is almost attractive, if he wasn’t so damned arrogant and sure of himself. He has the manner of an overconfident tomcat_. Something about that arrogance just set her teeth on edge, made her want to wipe the smile off his face with her fist, even thought she knew it wasn’t a good idea.

“Sara, I trust you enjoyed your walk?”

“Yeah, it was great. Look, can we get this over with? I need to get home. It was a late night last night and thanks to you, I have an early morning and an unhappy boss,” she answered, annoyance in her voice. The more he treated this as some kind of social occasion, the more uncomfortable she got, and she was not looking forward to having to fend off another pass from him. _Come travel with me? What was that, did anyone really fall for that kind of line anymore_? she thought sarcastically. It had reminded her of something out of an old movie or something.

“Very well, but we do have a few moments. Ian, you may leave our charming guest to me while you change. I trust that you do not mind if he joins us for dinner, Sara? After all we have much to discuss.”

“Sure, doesn’t bother me at all. It saves time.”

Ian looked up sharply. While it was not uncommon for the two of them to dine together, he was rarely asked to join Irons when he had guests. He moved out of the room without comment, hiding his inner confusion by following orders. It had been bad enough that he would be forced to watch this from the corner, but to sit at table and participate was beyond him. He wondered what his master had in mind and when he would be allowed to know his role in it.

 

Ian returned, having changed into something a little less casual than his usual working clothes. The dress shirt was black, linen, and buttoned all the way to the top, dress pants; he had even changed his boots for loafers. He did not want to be over or underdressed, either would anger and disappoint his master and perhaps lose himself the opportunity to dine with them. While the situation would be both awkward and uncomfortable for him, he had decided that he would concentrate on the simple pleasure of her presence. He brushed his hair but decided to leave it down in just a ponytail. He really was not sure how to handle this, or of what Irons was looking for, and as he had been given no clear instructions he had made an educated guess. As he entered, they both turned, and he noted with pride the approval in his master’s glance. Ian immediately walked over to where they were sitting, Sara on the couch, Irons in his large chair before the fire. They both had wine glasses in their hands and Irons continued on with what he had been telling her, giving her the last of the Cathain legend, the part of the story that had been removed from the manuscript, the part he had never wanted her to know. He schooled his face to careful neutrality as he placed himself behind and to the left of the chair in his usual position. Irons motioned negligently to Ian to take a seat, as he continuing to weave his tale.

Ian took the other chair, not wanting to put himself too close to Sara and temptation. He listened politely to the story he had heard many times before, allowing a little part of him to peer in as the Witchblade drew Sara into a vision, providing images to go with Irons’ hypnotic voice. The story ended and Sara started, as if out of a dream. She gave Irons an almost accusatory look as she tried hard to pull herself into the present.

“That was an interesting story, Mr. Irons, but why wouldn’t you tell me the ending before?”

“Because it was not time, Sara. One of the things that you must learn is patience.”

“Great. Thanks for the advice,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Now, can we get on with this?  You promised me dinner, and then I need to get home. No matter what you may think, this is not a social occasion. I only came because I had to.”

“Believe me when I say you have made that abundantly clear, almost to the point of giving offence,” Irons’ voice had a sharp edge to it, and Sara more or less regretted her words, but had no intention of telling him that.

She knew she was being a bitch, but it was hard not to. Still, she would not be called rude by the likes of him. If she could manage to be nice to Nottingham, she supposed she could manage not to slap that smug smile off Irons' face. _But if he hits on me again, I am going to just plain hit him_. “Besides, do we not need to discuss this little situation tomorrow? I would not want to do or say anything to compromise your position.”

“All right, Mr. Irons, I will give you that. I just don’t like being used by anyone.” There was a small note of apology as well as warning in her tone, and Ian suppressed a smile as he looked down at his folded hands. It was going to be an interesting evening for all concerned.

“Very well then,” he said, ignoring the last statement. “Shall we have the rest of this conversation over dinner?”

“That’s fine with me,” Sara told him, glad at last to be getting to the important parts of the evening. The story had been nice, but it took time, and she didn’t want to spend any more of it here than she had to. Irons nodded and picked up the phone. A few moments later, there was a bustle of activity as two people entered and set places at the table behind them. Irons rose and offered Sara his hand, which she chose to ignore, rising herself and following him to the table, Ian a few steps behind the two of them. Irons took the head of the table, of course, setting Sara at his right and Ian at his left. All in all a cozy little scene, from a distance it might almost look like a family dinner. _Yeah, the Addams family_ , she thought.

Ian sat and began to remove his gloves out of habit for the meal. Suddenly a thought occurred to him.  He hesitated, glancing at Irons in his confusion. Seeing the look, Irons nodded and he continued, taking them and putting them in his pocket not wanting to call Sara’s attention to his actions, as Irons tried to engage her in conversation to cover the moment. The last thing he wanted was to make her aware of exactly how different he was. She already thought him enough of a freak, and he could not explain it to her, was not allowed to.

“More wine, Sara?” he asked, keeping her focused on him to give Ian the time. It was probably unfair to do this to him, but it was necessary, and the boy knew where his duty lay.

“No, thank you, Mr. Irons. I’ll need a clear head to drive home tonight. I assume you can arrange for me to be returned to my bike since you have effectively trapped me here?” she asked bitterly.

“I will make whatever arrangements are necessary, although you could, of course, accept my hospitality for the night,” he said smoothly, ignoring her tone.

“No way,” she said, half shouting at him as she began to rise. Ian looked up in shock and disbelief. “What could possibly make you think that I would spend the night here with you? Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just walk out of here right now.” Irons reached out a hand in a conciliatory gesture.

“I did not mean to offend you, Sara, please sit down. I was only suggesting that you might wish to remain here to…bolster your story. Since all the entrances are being watched, and you have to return here in the morning anyway, it would save you the time, and give us the entire evening. At least consider the idea, please.” He gave her a small smile as she sank slowly back into her chair.

 _I have got to calm down_ , she thought. She realised that she was being a little oversensitive. After all, he hadn’t actually suggested anything. She was just tired and stressed, not looking forward to tomorrow at all. She nodded at him slowly, not really ready to concede the point, but at least ready to listen, more or less.

“Why did you insist that I be there anyway? It’s not like you really have any intention of listening to them. Do you?”

“Considering what you let them believe, it would be suspicious if I did not have you. I have had dealings over the years with many of their kind and none could truly be trusted. However, I do trust Ian, and if you wish them to believe you, they have to believe that I, too trust you, or I would not let you come so close to me. So you see, you really left me no alternative.”

Ian sat quietly, wishing he were safely away in his corner. When Irons had offered her the option of staying, he had been torn between the elation of having her here, and the fear and confusion at what Irons would want of her in exchange. The thought of the two of them together was a little more than he could stand. He had to admit to his own sense of pride in her when she refused him before. It was not a reaction that he was used to seeing from women where Irons was concerned, it made her even more amazing in his eyes.

“All right, makes sense,” she said, grudgingly accepting his argument. “I didn’t mean to cause all this, but they didn’t really leave me an out. They’re really determined. Did it occur to you that there might be something to it?”

“You are right, Sara,” Ian spoke up softly for the first time since he had rejoined them. He glanced surreptitiously at his master, for permission to continue and he received it. “They may be aware of something, some threat that has not shown itself as of yet.” Sara looked at him, listening to what he had to say. Irons was also giving him his attention, as he always did in matters of security, the only place where his expertise was not only approved of, but expected.

“You are both correct, of course, and I shall be interested to hear what they have to say. I will also be interested to hear your opinion, indeed both of your opinions. So you see, it is not just a matter of supporting your story, Sara.” She looked at him, trying to get an idea of what was going on in his head. He was going out of his way to be pleasant, but she was still a little cautious. But if she could manage to have a truce with Nottingham, why shouldn’t she try to have one with his boss? She still didn’t trust him, but she did need him. He was the only one who had a lot of the information she needed and if someone was out to kill him…She was still bound by her oath to protect and serve, even Kenneth Irons. God, she hated having to admit the man was right, about anything, but she didn’t really have a choice, and that galled her too.

They continued to discuss the risks and possible security problems through the rest of dinner. Sara made an effort to at least be polite and found it was not as difficult as she thought it would be. Afterwards they went back to their places by the fire. Irons was doing everything he could to be a charming host. She noticed the chessboard by his chair and moved to take a closer look.

“Do you play, Sara?” Irons asked noticing her curiosity.

“I used to a little, in high school, haven’t in years.”

“Perhaps Ian would give you a game? Ian?”

“I would be honoured,” he said. The idea was intriguing; he had not played anyone but Irons in a long time. Besides, maybe it would help to put Sara more at ease. He could easily throw her the game if necessary.

“I don’t know, it has been a long time, I would hate to embarrass myself,” she told them both. It was an interesting idea, but she was not sure she remembered enough to give Ian a good game, and with Irons around, she had little doubt that he was good.

“Please, Sara?” Ian asked.

“Alright, but go easy on me, okay?”

“Excellent,” Irons said, smiling and motioning Ian to move up a couple of chairs and positioning himself to watch the match. He did not expect that she would make a particularly worthy opponent for Ian, who was almost as good a player as he himself, but it would give him a chance to see how she thought, and it would keep her distracted for a little longer, make it easier to convince her to stay. The more contact he had with her, the easier it would be to judge her, even control her, and through her the Witchblade.

 

She played well, for someone who had not done so in a long time. Ian was very careful with her, slowly letting her win, but doing to so subtly, knowing she would be mad if she caught him. Irons watched the two of them, spotting Ian’s little mistakes, the ways he let her beat him. It was interesting to watch them at it. Sara seemed to be enjoying herself, as if she forgot for a time that she was here more or less against her will, with two men to whom she usually would not give the time of day. As she neared to check mate she wondered if Ian was letting her win, but for the life of her could not find a fault with his playing.

“I believe, Ian, that she has you,” Irons commented from the side. He had been watching avidly, resisting the urge to give advice to either one of them.

“Yes, Sir, I think she does.”

“Checkmate,” she confirmed, making the final move, trapping the king in rook one with her remaining bishop.

“Excellent game.  Shall I take my turn now, Sara?” Irons questioned her with a smile. Sara knew that she was going to be outclassed by him, but flushed with her success against Ian, she decided to try anyway. They reset the board and Ian shifted the chairs so he could watch. He had not enjoyed himself so much in years, even though, like Sara, he knew that there was no hope of her victory. On the other hand another game would probably be enough to ensure that it was too late for her to leave the house for the night, and the pleasure of having her here far outweighed any pricks to his pride caused by having to throw the game. It had been a challenge in itself for him to throw it subtly enough for her not to become suspicious. Besides, after playing Irons for years; it was nice to get a chance to play against someone else. Ian was looking forward to watching them play. He knew Irons was an excellent player, a master even. It would be amusing to watch him try not to embarrass her.

The game was not a short as it could have been. Sara fought well, but Irons had more years at it than he cared to count. Still, he reflected, _she has the potential to be a good player if she spent more time playing, and learned a bit of patience_. Chess was a matter of control, and Kenneth Irons was a master of control.

“A good attempt, Sara. Perhaps you will give me a game again sometime?” he questioned politely. Sara was surprised by how much she had enjoyed herself, usually preferring more physical pursuits. And Irons had been nothing but polite and even charming. She didn’t know if she was just excessively tired, or if the man was actually growing on her. But it couldn’t last. She figured that much more time with him and he would start to annoy her again in short order. At least he had not renewed his offer to take her under his wing or tried to make a pass at her again. In fact he had been a perfect gentleman, which normally would make her wonder what he was up to.

“Maybe, if I’m ever in the neighbourhood again,” she said in a tone that told him that while he had perhaps gained a little bit of her trust, he should not push it any farther tonight.

“Would you at least accept my offer to stay here tonight? It would be much simpler for you.” He pulled his watch from his pocket and checked the time. “It is quite late and, as you said you did not get much sleep last night...a case, I believe?” he said, implying that Ian had not given him all the details of what had transpired the night before.

“All right,” she said cautiously, once again on the alert. But she was tired and the thought of having to ride back to the city and then get her bike and ride home just did not sound appealing, considering she would have to be back here at 9:30 anyway.

“Then I will say good evening to you.” He rose, taking her hand for a brief moment, almost like he was going to kiss it, but he released it quickly. “Ian, will you show Sara to one of the guest rooms and make sure that she has everything she needs?”

“Of course, Sir,” he answered, rising as well and leading her up the stairs and out into the hall. He took her down to the end of the corridor and opened the door for her.

“Hey Nottingham,” she said.

“Yes Sara?”

“Thanks for the game, I really enjoyed myself.” She smiled at him. Ian returned the smile a little shyly.

“I will return shortly with a few things for you.” He told her, not wanting her to be surprised by him and misread his intentions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, for those playing the home game, the chapter titles thus far have come from the song Trouble by the Burns Unit, a great song, and terribly appropriate. You know what to do.


	4. When Trouble comes round

“Alright, it’s not like I am going anywhere. I would probably get lost.” He laughed a little and left, closing the door behind him. Sara looked around at the room she had been left in. It was large and elegant, but not over done. The furniture was dark wood and there was a couch and chair on one side near a small fireplace complete with a fire burning low in it.  She sat down, removing her holster and badge, feeling a little out of place and wondering what Ian meant by finding her a few things. Sara really couldn’t picture herself in something silky and frilly that had been left behind by one of Irons' many lady friends, or possibly kept for their use. Actually the idea revolted her, but she decided that she would just accept whatever he brought and then sleep in her tee shirt.

 _It’s late, and it hasn’t been too bad. Not a lot of point in starting a fight here and now_ , she thought as she sat down and started to take the holster for her hold out from her ankle when the she heard the knock. She walked over and opened the door to find Ian as expected. He looked at her shyly and handed her a new, fresh out of the package, large black tee shirt with the creases still in, and a clean robe, not new, and obviously several sizes too big. She was shocked by the offer, as they could only belong to one person.

“I thought they would be more comfortable than something that…” he trailed off in embarrassment, trying to find a way to continue what he wanted to say. He should have gone and asked how to handle this, but he did not think Irons would understand. He knew Sara would not be comfortable in anything that she associated with his employer and his (well deserved) reputation, and hoped that the offer of just a tee shirt would not offend her.

“Thank you, I will be,” she told him, trying not to embarrass him any more than he obviously was. But still it was a nice gesture, not at all what she was expecting, and certainly much better than she hoped for. _This guy knows me better than I thought, I wonder.._ she started before shutting down those thoughts. _Just say what you wanted to say to him earlier, then he can leave and you can get some sleep, you are obviously getting delusional._ “Listen Ian, I didn’t have a chance to say this before.” She took a deep breath. “I wanted to apologise. I hope I didn’t make things uncomfortable for you.  I mean, I don’t even know if you have a girlfriend or…something. I was really grasping at straws at the time.”

“No, Sara, there is no one else in my life, my job takes up most of my time.  You should understand that.” He looked at her, wishing he could tell her that the only woman in his life, the only woman he wanted in his life, was mere inches from him. To try to explain it all, his duty to both of them, but she would not understand. As he was reaching for words, wishing he had a chance to speak to Irons before talking to her, a loud beeping sound started from his pocket. Sara gave him a curious look as he pulled out what looked like a small PDA.

“Security system,” he said in the form of explanation as he opened it.

“Something wrong?” she asked, automatically on alert.

“Looks like an attempted breach of the perimeter. I should go.” He turned and started down the hall.

“Wait,” she called after him, training asserting itself. “You want me to come with you, back you up?”

“No, Sara, I can get across the grounds faster alone and the dogs don’t know you.” He kept moving but then stopped, and turned back quickly. “Would you go to Mr. Irons’ room and watch the door until I return?” he asked, acknowledging her need to do something, to be of use.

“Sure, but how…” she started.

“Keep following this corridor to the far end, there is a pair of double doors...” He threw the words over his shoulder as he left at a run, trusting her to follow his instructions. Sara grabbed her pistol off the nightstand and ran down the hall, the agent’s warning in her ears. She stopped dead when she hit the end of the hall and saw the doors, large and imposing before her, leaving no doubt that it was the right place. Sara ran up to them, barely stopping as she pounded on the heavy wood.

 

Kenneth Irons relaxed in his sitting room in the large chair before the fire, brandy warming in the crystal glass in his hand. _An interesting evening, so many new things to consider,_ he thought. It had been nice to see Sara let down her guard, to relax to a point. But only so far. He analysed the evening carefully, pinpointing exactly the moment when the conversation began to change. It was in discussing security with Ian, the two of them discovering common ground in their expertise. Perhaps handled correctly this could be an even better situation than he had first imagined. Sara was not like other women. She did not seem concerned with appearances; wealth meant little or nothing to her save a threat to her middle class sensibilities. She did not respond to flattery or take compliments well, unlike most of the women he met. There would be advantages to this change in tactics as well. He would not be tied down to one woman, and he knew that with Sara it would have to be all or nothing. In this way she would remain close to him, close enough to control her, to take a hand in guiding destiny, but without making the sacrifice, at least not his sacrifice.

Irons reached into the table beside him and removed a photograph in an old silver frame. _Perhaps this is better for all_ , he thought, gazing into the eyes of the woman in the picture. _They have more in common, yet it will keep her close enough._ _Would this be your wish, my love? She can never be you, Elizabeth, and I believe that in time I would come to hate her for that._

A sharp knock on the door startled him out of his reverie and he quickly pushed the photograph back into the drawer and closed it.

“Yes?” She heard Irons from inside the room.

“Mr. Irons,” she called loudly, wondering how much he could possibly hear from behind the thick doors.

Inside, Kenneth Irons started from his place by the fire at Sara’s voice, wondering if he could have possibly misread her tonight. It was not often that he was surprised like this. He rubbed the back of his hand as he crossed the floor, trying to get perspective on this new turn of events. He opened the door with a smile of pleasure on his face that froze when he saw the gun in her hand. “Sara?” he asked, confusion evident in his voice. “What?”

“Nottingham and I were talking when the security alarm went off. He asked me to stay here until he returned.” At that moment a flood of bright lights came on outside, illuminating the room behind them. “Please stay inside and lock the door.” Irons nodded and withdrew into his room, amazed to see Sara with that fierce tigress look outside his door. It pleased him beyond words. Tonight was working out better than he could have possibly imagined. He locked the door behind him and returned to his place by the fire and his brandy, confident that between the two of them he was completely safe.

 

Ian returned about thirty minutes later to find Sara standing in the hall before his master’s door, gun drawn and at the ready, keeping an eye on the corridor as he had asked. She lowered her gun as he approached and when he arrived, she knocked on the door to signal the all clear. They both waited while the lock was disengaged and Irons opened it to admit them both into his inner sanctum. Sara was a little surprised, cautious even, about going into Irons’ bedroom. In a small corner of her mind she wondered if it were some kind of trick, but didn’t figure that even they could come up with something this elaborate. Irons was standing there in an old fashioned red velvet robe over white pyjamas, probably silk, and an honest to god ascot, exactly like you would see in old movies. He closed the door and motioned Sara over to sit, picking up his glass from the table. Sara tried not to laugh at the strangeness of the situation as he offered her a drink. She declined as she continued to look around the room and found that it was a private sitting room complete with another fireplace and chairs drawn up to it. _What is it with this guy and fire?_ she thought. It was a strange room, very old fashioned, almost fussy in a way. So very different from the blend of ancient and modern that Sara had seen in the rest of the house.

Irons motioned Sara to a chair, but Ian continued to stand in his normal position, so different from the more casual manner he had tried to maintain all evening. In his mind this was much more comfortable. He had been thrilled by Sara’s offer to help, hoping that it meant she was beginning to get used to him as well. Seeing Sara here in this room, in his master’s private sanctum, made him uncomfortable. It brought to mind too many things that he did not wish to consider at the moment. _Focus on the situation. You should not allow yourself to be distracted by those thoughts. If she is to be a member of this family, she must first accept us._

“Ian, what has happened?”

“It was nothing, Sir. When I arrived there were minimal signs of an attempt to come over the fence. I am not sure if this was a true effort, or if someone was just testing the system to see how hard it would be to breach. I have double checked everything and will go over it all again in the morning. The rest of the security staff are on high alert.”

“The question is, do you think this is a coincidence? I mean, they tell you there is a threat and suddenly someone is pinging the system?”

“I do not believe in coincidence, Sara. And while I have very little faith in members of the so called intelligence community, I do not necessarily believe that they would attempt something like this merely to attract my attention.”

“You don’t believe, but you would not put it past them either?” Sara asked perceptively.

Irons gave her a slight smile and nodded to her. “Correct. However, we are not going to settle this tonight. It is late, and as I do not believe you wish to stay here...” he left it hanging. Sara started to say something, but she could see by the look in his face that he was teasing, and she was definitely too tired to start a fight with him now. It had been too nice an evening anyway.

“That’s for sure,” she told him, determined to leave it at that. Ian watched the two of them, surprised but pleased that the situation had not erupted again. It was incredibly warming to have his two charges working together rather than at one another’s throats.

“Very well. Thank you, Sara, for helping.”

“It’s not a big deal. I’m a cop. I couldn’t just hide in my room, knowing this was going on.” She stood up and Ian joined her as they said their goodnights.

 

The knock at the door woke Sara from a very vague and confusing dream involving battlefields and swords. She took a moment trying to figure out where she was and why, before the soft knock came again. She rose from the bed, remembering the night before; Irons, Nottingham, chess, and the damn meeting. She grabbed the robe Ian had left her and opened the door to find the suspected owner standing in the doorway with a tray containing a coffee pot and a cup.

“Hey, Sara,” he said, a little shyly, trying to hide the pleasure he felt at the sight of her standing there in his robe. He hoped that Irons never found out. He would not be pleased, but he also would not understand how offended she would have been by other offerings.

“Hey, Nottingham,” she said, falling back into pattern. She would have to remember to call him Ian at the meeting, even if he annoyed her. She stepped back, a little uncomfortable being seen standing there in his robe, although as much as he watched her, he had probably seen her in less. She was going to have to ask him about that at some point. But she would welcome the devil himself in the morning as long as he brought coffee. “Thanks for the coffee, but you didn’t have to do that,” she told him, pouring the first cup of the day and starting to drink.

“Mr. Irons would not want you to think badly of our hospitality. He would like you to join him for breakfast downstairs when you are ready.”

“Uh, okay, but I usually just skip breakfast. How do I get to wherever I’m going without getting lost? I am sure you have other things to do than hang around and wait for me, and I am not going to have you here while I get ready. You understand?”

“Of course, I would not do anything to make you…uncomfortable.” He looked down in his customary lowered head posture.

“Nottingham, don’t do that. Sign of respect or not, it is annoying. You managed to look at me last night, you think you can manage today? Otherwise they are really going to think there is something weird going on.  Wouldn't want them speculating about our relationship that way.” Sara’s nerves were getting the best of her and she took it out on the person closest to her at the moment whether he deserved it or not. Ian immediately raised his head and looked at her, not quite able to hide the little flush on his face. He was embarrassed, she realised. _Great, first I yell at him, now I embarrass him, I’m batting a thousand today, and all he did was bring me coffee._ “Sorry, I can be a real bitch without my coffee. Why don’t you tell me how to get where I am going so you can go and let me make myself civilised before I get down there and piss off your boss again. I would really like to just get thorough this and get everything back on normal ground.”

“When you are ready, just pick up the phone and dial 11, the intercom will beep me and I will come and escort you.”

“You don’t have to do that you know,” she told him.

“But I would like to,” he told her as he walked towards the door.

She nodded acceptance, figuring that if she opened her mouth she would end up saying something she would regret. Besides, they should get used to acting like they were together, especially since it was her fault that they had to. "All right, then, Ian." She was trying.

He smiled a little and left, closing the door after him. Sara headed for the bathroom, wondering what it was about Ian Nottingham that annoyed her, especially when he had not said anything vague or cryptic to her since yesterday. _Nice smile though,_ she thought again, _pity he doesn’t smile nearly enough, or maybe it's just you are usually so busy yelling at him, you don't see it._

 

Ian was as good as his word, coming to the room almost immediately after she called. She wondered if he had been waiting around in the hall, but decided not to ask since she really didn’t want the answer. All she had to do was get through this meeting and then she was a free agent again. As nice as they had been last night, she was still much more comfortable viewing them with suspicion and preferably at a distance.

They walked through the huge house and into a small dining room. Mr. Irons sat at the table, impeccably dressed as usual in a very dark grey suit complete with vest, light grey shirt and grey and red tie. He rose as she entered putting down the paper he had been reading and motioning her to a chair next to him.

“Good morning, Sara. I trust you slept well?” he inquired politely as he reseated himself. Once again he motioned for Ian to join them.

This time Ian was expecting it however, having been told earlier that Irons expected the three of them to go over some last minute details for the meeting. He had also given Ian a few specific guidelines as to how to behave towards Sara, how to play the role she had thrust him into so unprepared, however unknowingly. He knew that there was more to it, letting Sara get used to him, and, by extension, Irons. _Enjoy it_ , he thought, _soon enough things will go back to where they were_.

“Yes, thank you. I must admit that it was better than fighting traffic to get here this morning.” She had had a shower and most of the coffee, much better than she was used, to and felt she could manage to be polite to him at least long enough to get through the meeting.

“I am glad. You are of course welcome here, and I hope that you will accept my hospitality again sometime.”

 _Yeah right_ , she thought, pretty sure that last night had been an aberration brought on by the weird situation. But she managed to smile politely and hold her tongue.

The rest of the meal passed smoothly enough, she accepted some breakfast to give her something to do as Ian and Irons discussed some details of the day’s schedule, and then the conversation turned to the meeting. After last night’s little episode, Ian was more interested than ever to hear what they had to say, and Sara had to admit to a little curiosity on the subject herself. She and Ian managed to talk about possibilities and details, while Irons sat back and listened to them, pleased to find them conferring like colleagues over the various permutations and combinations of threats that they expected to find out about. _Perhaps this little episode was just the opening I needed to get closer to her, or at least get Ian close to her,_ he thought as he followed the conversation while allowing his mind to dwell on other possibilities and how to turn this little twist of fate to his best advantage.

The ringing of a cell phone interrupted the discussion and Ian moved quickly away from the table to answer it. Sara was left staring at the remains of her admittedly excellent breakfast and Kenneth Irons.

“Are you prepared to finish this?” he asked calmly. “I would imagine that our guests have arrived.”

“You mean _your_ guests, I’m just a spectator here,” she told him sharply, uncomfortable with his attempt to include her in his little freak show. Ian returned to them and nodded to Irons before resuming his seat.

“They are at the gate now. They will arrive here in about twenty minutes.” He smiled at Sara a little. “They are being put through a full security screening now.” Ian’s smile was an exact copy of the one on Irons’ face, making her wonder again about the relationship between the two of them. Irons had told her once that they were not lovers, certainly they didn’t act that way, and Ian had said that there was no one in his life, but there was definitely something more there than employer/employee.

“Twenty minutes? What are you doing, insisting on a strip search?” she asked in surprise. The image of Tweedledum and Tweedledumber shivering outside the gate in their matching white boxer shorts almost caused her to burst out laughing. There was an edge to it, an almost savage amusement at the discomfort of those who had gotten her into this mess. She settled for a barely concealed smirk. Ian gave her a grin and Irons merely looked down at his paper with a slight cough, trying hard to conceal his own amusement at the image in Sara’s mind.

“Not quite, although if you insist…” Ian said with a sudden flash of humour that seemed to take Irons off guard as well, a smile quickly passing across his face before he submerged it once again into his characteristically neutral look.

“No, that’s okay. They’re going to be pissed enough when they get here and I’m the easiest target.”

“Not while you are in _this_ house,” Irons told her, a bit of a sharp note in his voice that took her by surprise. “They will have better sense than to be actively hostile to you while they believe you have my protection.”

“Listen, Mr. Irons, I’ve told you before… I don’t want your protection. I’ve gone along with this little charade because I had to, but…” He raised his hand to stop her. Sara reined in her temper briefly, allowing him to speak. Arguing with him rarely got her anywhere and he would insist on having his say regardless.

“Sara, I said ‘believe’, the truth of their perception is something that needs remain only between the three of us. It only matters what they accept to make it real. Rather like your walk with Ian last night, they will see what they expect and that is all that is required, hmmmm?” She stopped what she was about to say cold, as the implication of his words made their way into her mind. She was not completely sure that she believed him, wondering if this was not a trick to get her to accept his offer. But if so, it wasn’t in what he said, and he did enjoy his word games. Besides, it was almost over, and if believing that she had Irons’ protection kept them away from her without having to do so, then for now she would let it go. For now.

“All right,” she told him grudgingly. “But don’t try to make this into something it’s not. I’m still not comfortable with it, perception or not. I've never needed that kind of political crap.”

“Very well,” Irons said with a faint nod, appearing to accept her words, for now. At that moment one of the staff arrived in the room and moved to whisper in Irons’ ear. He nodded and the man left hurriedly. Irons checked his pocket watch and nodded again. “They have just arrived and are being shown into the library,” he commented. Sara began to rise but Irons voice stopped her. “There is no hurry, Sara. Please finish your coffee. It will do them good to wait a little longer. It is all a part of the game.”

“Mr. Irons, I don’t have time for games. You’re the one who enjoys games. What I have is a need to get out of here at some point and get back to a pile of work, a Captain who is looking for an excuse to bust my ass, and a rookie partner who only has half a clue to spare.”

“Games are the way of the world. Everyone plays them, it is merely those of us who are honest with ourselves that admit it and take the time to enjoy. Besides, in this case it is a matter of advantage. The longer they wait, the more aware they become of exactly who controls this round.” There was a coldness in his voice and somehow she could tell that she was learning something very important about the man. “They believe that they are the ones in control.  They need to be taught that I will not be summoned, nor will I be threatened. This puts them off guard, allows them to slip and give us more information than they otherwise would be willing to.” He let her think about that for a moment. “All of the world is a stage, Sara.” He looked at his watch again and began to stand. Ian rose as well and reached for her chair but she pulled away and stood herself. She had already had enough this morning and it was past time to get this over with.

They left the room and walked down the hall to the library, Irons first, Ian and Sara walking side by side, behind him. _Stage dressing again_ , she thought, showing who was in charge. They arrived at the double doors and Ian pushed them back, allowing Irons to step thorough while he returned to Sara’s side.

“Gentlemen,” Irons voice echoed in the large room. “I believe that you wanted to speak to me. Please come into the office.” He walked past them without even the barest of glances and through the door on the other side, into a smaller office, surrounded by bookshelves. The desk was large and took up half the available space. Irons placed himself behind it and Ian nudged Sara a little until she followed him into a place next to his boss behind it. She realised what Irons meant, drawing the battle lines. They would have to arrange themselves in front as best they could in the two chairs available facing Irons with both of them standing there like backup. There were three of them, James and Rowlands from yesterday and a third man she did not know. A look up at Ian confirmed that he did however, and didn’t like him. His face had gone from its blank mask to a cold fury, the killer very close to the surface before he regained control and came back to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, and once more into the story. This is long and complicated so be prepared. Comments are greatly appreciated. Questions, too, if you happened to come in from one of my crossovers.


	5. Trouble rents a house near me

“Kenneth, it has been a long time.” The man she didn’t recognise stepped forward and offered his hand to Irons who pointedly ignored it. Sara watched as Irons gave the man a distasteful look. _Geez_ , she thought, _what did this guy do to him? Irons is a lot of things, but rarely is he deliberately rude. If this idiot thinks familiarity was a good idea, or even a way to get through to him, it's not helping. The last time I saw a look like that, Vicki was cleaning out the fridge in the lab._

“Carter, I believe that I made it clear several years ago that I had nothing further to say to you. I do not believe that I have changed my assessment of the situation."  He paused with a cold smile that got no where near his eyes.  "The fact that you use this subterfuge to gain entry to my home does not incline me to be charitable. I suggest you give me a reason not to have Nottingham forcibly remove you from the grounds immediately. I think he would relish the opportunity, so I would suggest a certain amount of alacrity.” The cold look returned to Ian’s eyes, something wolfish, and almost feral in his smile. Sara caught his gaze with a questioning look. He returned her look with one of his own and a negative shake of the head. Irons spared a sideways glance to them, catching the unspoken communication. _They are learning to read each other, excellent_. He turned his cold, hard green eyes to the man in front of him, ignoring the two agents who stood behind him, confused as well. Clearly this was not the meeting that they had been expecting.

At Ian’s glance Carter had gone a bit pale but he recovered himself quickly. He looked over at Ian, giving him a look that spoke of a certain oily distaste. He took in Sara as well, clearly dismissing her without a thought. “Ian, you look well. Letting him off his leash a little, Kenneth, are you sure that is a wise move?” he said, the concern in his voice patently fake.

It was Sara’s turn to bristle.  Not only had the man dismissed her like she wasn’t there but the way he talked about Ian, like he wasn’t even a person made her want to knock the smile off his face with her fist. It didn’t matter that she didn’t usually care for Nottingham herself, no human being deserved to be treated that way. Ian had stiffened at Carter's statement and Irons himself had gone completely still at his desk. She started forward before she could even form her thoughts into a coherent structure.

“Listen you sanctimonious Son of a Bitch…” she began, before Ian’s hand on her arm restrained her. Something about this guy was setting off all her alarms and the Witchblade was sending little warning pulses up her arm. With an effort, Sara allowed herself to be restrained, moving back a little and covering the Witchblade with her hand to keep it from showing itself at this exact moment.

“Sara, it is not necessary…” Ian started to say.

“Yes it is, no one talks…” Irons held up his hand to stop them and they subsided more or less gracefully. _For now_ , Sara thought, determined to find out what that was all about as soon as they were done, probably on the way back to work.

Agent James stepped forward, trying to calm down a situation that was obviously out of control from the beginning. He wished that Dr. Carter had warned him before he insisted on joining this meeting that there was personal animosity between him and Irons. This simple assignment was getting more complicated by the second. “Mr. Irons, I apologise. I was unaware that there was a problem with Dr. Carter attending this meeting as it concerns him as well.” He tried to turn things back to the original reason for their being here without another flare up. “There has been a bit of a problem regarding the Black Dragons’ project.” As he spoke, Carter took one of the chairs and sat casually, trying to achieve that completely controlled look that was Irons’ own hallmark. He fell measurably short in Sara’s estimation. _Yeah, like the difference between a prince and a frog,_ she thought _. Irons may be a bastard but at least he does it with real style._

“The project ended years ago, all but one of the remaining members of the team are dead. I do not see what further interest it could possibly hold for me,” Irons said dismissively.

“The team members are not the only ones dead, Kenneth.  What you see in this room is all that is left of the entire project.” The words were said with a certain nonchalance that belied their importance. Irons looked at Carter pointedly, as the temperature of the room seemed to drop around them.

“What do you mean, all that are left?” he inquired mildly, his control still in place. The only hint that anything was disturbing him lay in a slight deepening of his accent. Ian turned a look to his master, trying to take it all in without giving anything away. Sara too was confused. From what she got the Black Dragons project was a failure, why would anyone want to kill all the project members now?  It made her wonder if Irons was somehow involved. She had always wondered about Mobius’ attempt on Irons and Ian, not to mention a certain curiosity at the implication that Ian had done in the rest of his team members.

“Over the last six months, all of the scientists and advisors to the project have systematically been killed. Gerhardt in Germany, Klein and Johnston in England, they have run the entire list. Everyone but you, Ian and me. Didn't you wonder why it was the CIA that was involved? There are international implications here.” Carter stopped, waiting for his words to make some impact, visibly disappointed when Irons merely continued to stare at him as if he were some kind of interesting specimen of mould, distasteful, but possibly mildly useful.

“It seems they were working there way up the chain, starting with the peripherals.” Agent James took over the narrative, trying to regain control of his own meeting, trying to break the tension. He had not been expecting the level of animosity apparent between the two men. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to leave Carter to Nottingham. The man had jeopardised the entire mission with his big mouth. “There have also been collateral kills; Dr. Klein’s daughter was kidnapped to get him out of the house. He was murdered at the ransom drop. The money was all there, the little girl was found dead two days later. She was apparently killed after the final meeting was confirmed.” Agent James explained in the suddenly quiet room.

“So you see, Kenneth, this is more important than our little feud. We don’t know if they ever went after the Dragons themselves, although they too met with mysterious ‘accidents’.” Carter gave Ian a sharp look as he said the last. Ian returned it with a cold one of his own. “I’m pretty sure that the only reason that I am still here is that my name was taken out of the record when the project ended, since I went on to other work.” He paused significantly, but if he was expecting some concern over his possible demise he was doomed to disappointment, Irons merely looked at him and raised an eyebrow, as if waiting for him to say something interesting.. “And that leaves you. Tell me Kenneth, do you really think that Ian is the only protection you need against something like this? They got Henrickson last week in that fortress of his. You are the only one left on the list. You are also probably the hardest to hit. But we have no idea who they are, or how many. They have used different methods; at least one of them was made to look like a suicide to give them more time. All we know is that they have gotten to everyone. I don’t think you are gambler enough to risk it.” He finished up and turned his gaze to Irons, who sat there calmly.

Sara took in everything she heard, trying to keep the shock off her face. Someone really was trying to get Irons, and it looked like he was actually in real danger. Her mind flashed to the disturbance last night and wondered again if it was just a simple break-in attempt. She looked over at Ian and could tell he was absorbing this all as well. Irons still appeared unfazed, but she could never tell what the man was thinking anyway.

“You have never known well enough what I would or would not risk. And what do you gentlemen propose?" he asked, looking at Agent James appraisingly. "I am certain that you did not come here just to warn me."  Sara stood next to Ian, waiting for him to say something, for the other shoe to drop, but he merely stood calm and attentive, gave his attention to the entire scene without a word. _He would be great in interrogation_ , she thought, _make the suspects so nervous they just spill it all, I wonder if he gives lessons?_ Startled by the thought, she tried to figure out what it was that was making her look at him with new eyes?

“We would like to give you some protection, station agents here, and at your office, set up a command post, surveillance, etc. We want to catch these people. Most of the scientist and advisers they have killed have primarily done work for the government and the intelligence communities of several nations, one way or another, and we need to find out what information they were looking for. We would be willing to work with your own security of course.” He looked at Ian, trying to keep the distaste off his face. The very idea of the man bothered him, there was a big difference between a professional soldier and an assassin, and from what he had found out Nottingham was a great deal more than just an assassin, though what exactly, there was no hint. His connection to the cop was odd as well. What was a straight arrow, hard-core police officer like Sara Pezzini doing with someone like Ian Nottingham, not to mention his boss? There was a suggestion that Irons had done some pretty shady dealings over the years and the rumour was that he had started his fortune in the illegal arms business although no one had ever said when, much less proved it.

“I will consider your suggestions gentlemen, after we have all the information, and I have conferred with my head of security, not to mention Detective Pezzini. I trust you have the information on the other deaths. I would appreciate it if you turned it over to Mr. Nottingham so that he can do his assessment of the situation. I will give you an answer by the end of the day.” The dismissal was clear in his voice as he started to turn and rise. Sara started to say something, but Ian’s hand on her arm restrained her.

“Kenneth, I don’t…” Dr. Carter started.

“I will give an answer by the end of the day. That is all I have to say on the matter. And if you suddenly have a need to speak to me again, I suggest you find another method to do so. I dislike blackmail, gentlemen, and those who employ such methods.” He rose from his chair and Ian and Sara stepped back.

“If you would just…” Agent Rowlands spoke up for the first time.  The effort of staying quiet had obviously cost him, but his bad cop routine had been too badly outclassed in this company. Irons turned a look on the agent that had sent better men cowering.

“And if you need to return again, I suggest that you leave Dr. Carter in whatever hole you found him. He will not be admitted to this house again under any circumstances, and should you disregard that, I will leave his fate in Ian's capable hands. Goodbye.” With a last withering look, Irons turned and left the room. Ian took the folder that Agent James handed him and gestured them out into the library, where they were turned over to a member of staff to be shown to the door.

“Detective?” Carter called out to her as he was leaving. “Be careful, Detective, Nottingham is not what you think he is. Watch your back.” A last shot as he left, following the others out of the room. Ian started after him, but Sara reached out to grab his arm. He spun around to face her and she could see the wild anger in his eyes, so different from his usual calm. She stepped back involuntarily before the look vanished, replaced by shame at his own temper. Ian lowered his head, not wanting to see fear in her eyes, or worse.

“Nottingham,” she said cautiously. “Don’t do anything that I’d have to arrest you for.  Even though it was provoked, the paperwork wouldn’t be worth it. The guy was obviously trying to piss you off and he succeeded. If you’d attacked him, your boss would have a real problem right now.”

Ian nodded; still too embarrassed to face her. Sara looked at him, feeling a little understanding that had crept in almost unnoticed and not particularly welcomed. “Hey Nottingham, I know how you feel. Personally, the guy gives me the creeps and my little toy too.” She waved the Witchblade at him. “I’m kind of surprised, considering how your boss feels about him, that he didn’t just have you bounce the lot of them out on their asses.” Ian looked up shyly, surprised and grateful for her understanding.

“Thank you, Sara. I am afraid that I found his suggestion that you would be in any danger from me...offensive.”

“Yeah, well,” she said dismissively, a little embarrassed by his enthusiasm. “Speaking of which,” Sara started, trying to change the subject quickly before this got any more personal. “What was with that last bit? Why not give them an answer now? I mean it sounds like he is actually in some danger. Assuming that the two of you don’t have anything to do with this.”

“Sara, do you think so badly of me that you honestly believe I would kill a child?” he asked, the hurt expression on his face making her feel like she had just kicked a stray dog.

She sighed heavily. _That was way out of bounds, Pezzini, and you know it. Now you have to fix it_. “No, I don’t, not really, I’m just pissed. I hate this cloak and dagger shit, anything involving three letter acronyms gives me hives, and Carter...that man leaves a slime trail. Besides, it doesn’t explain that thing with the security system last night," she told him.  "Okay, let me say goodbye to your boss and then I really need to roll. I’ve done my duty.”

“Would you stay a little longer, help me look over this information?” he asked hopefully. “Between the two of us, we could make a better assessment.”

Sara looked at him in shock. Just because she felt a little sorry for him, was not enough to let her get dragged any closer to the two of them. _Coming to them for information, yeah, that I’ll have to accept, but I am not getting dragged into some weird kind of relationship here. No way, no how_ , she swore to herself. “Oh no. I am not getting dragged into this. I have a ton of work and my boss is going to be angry enough as it is. I don’t need any more problems. I did my part.” She turned away from him angrily and left the room, walking out into the hall before he caught up with her. She stalked about halfway down it before she realised that she had taken the wrong corridor and had no idea where she was going. Embarrassed and angry that he had rattled her so much again, she turned on him, determined to give him a few more thoughts before she left.

At that exact moment his phone went off in his pocket. He held up a hand to her as he answered it, knowing that she would have to wait or risk getting even further turned around. “Nottingham,” he answered curtly, a little annoyed at having his brief time with Sara interrupted.

“Sir, there’s a problem here.”

He immediately turned all his attention to the call. “What has happened?”

“We had someone trying to break into the building through the private entrance. The guard on duty stopped them, but he was shot for his trouble. He’s on his way to the hospital. I have notified the police but…”

“I will be there as soon as possible. I want the building locked down and double-checked. We need to be sure that no one got in. This could have been meant as a diversion. And make sure that the penthouse level is cleared, I want all personnel moved until it has been thoroughly inspected.”

“Yes, Sir, and the police?” Ian considered his answer carefully.

“I will deal with them personally.” He looked over at Sara, who was trying not to show interest in the conversation, but failing. If he had been a bit less distracted, he would have savoured the moment.

“Yes, Sir.”

“I will inform you when I am on my way.” He hung up the phone and slipped it back into his pocket. “Sara, I’m afraid this situation has just gotten a little more complicated, I need to see Mr. Irons.”

“Great, what else is new?” she snapped sarcastically.

“Someone just tried to break into the Vorschlag building,” he said, ignoring for once the sharpness of her response. Ian turned abruptly, paying no attention to Sara’s presence behind him. He started down the hall and Sara rushed to keep up with him. It was odd; usually he was the one keeping up with her, not the other way around.

“Damn. Anyone hurt?” she asked.

“One guard on the way to the hospital, I don’t know his condition at present. I need to report and get there immediately.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Do you think it has anything to do with this morning? Was this an attempt at Irons specifically or Vorschlag?” Sara was running through her speculations aloud as they hurried down the hall together.

“Sara,” he said, stopping suddenly as they approached the door to Irons’ room. “I do not have any answers for you and since you have made it quite clear that you do not want to become more deeply involved…” His voice was hurried and a little harsher than usual in his dealings with her.

“Yeah, well, it looks like I am involved.” Sara sighed. “Listen, Nottingham, if this is part of this other problem, then there is no way that the cops on the scene can deal with it. And we can’t tell them anything; those feds will make sure of that," she commented, disgusted.  'Why is it that every time you and your boss are involved in something it complicates my life?” She gave him a frustrated look.

“I am sorry, Sara. It was not my intent to involve you in an internal problem.” Ian looked at her, pleased that she had come to the same conclusion that he had. If it were her idea, then perhaps she would not take it out on him. But he knew that she was dedicated to her calling and would not be able to let it go, even if it meant defending Irons. Ian knocked and they entered the door together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And a little more.


	6. Copied me a brand new key

Kenneth Irons leaned back in the large chair in his private room, watching the fire and letting his thoughts wander. He knew he should be attending to his day, but at the moment he was feeling his years, all of them. Carter’s presence in his home had been an unwelcome intrusion and he resisted the urge to have the housekeeper scrape every surface clean and have the whole house disinfected. It had been a very long time since he had felt that sort of all consuming rage, the desire to actually hand down physical retribution personally, or at least to allow it done while he watched. He thought fondly of ordering Ian to drag the man out of his home by his heels, the mental picture bringing a smile to his face. _Perhaps next time_ , Kenneth thought, _if he is foolish enough to disregard the warning_. The savage impulses had caught him by surprise and required more effort than he had expected to quell. While he knew that he was himself a man of few scruples and even fewer ethics where his own desires and ambitions were concerned, Carter was a variety of creature that even he could not tolerate.

 D _r. Carter was standing in the laboratory, watching, observing and cataloging the packing of equipment for shipping to other projects, other facilities. “The rest of the team members will be transferred back to their respective services and countries, but I am recommending that Nottingham be destroyed,” he said casually, as if the subject was no more important than the weather, this disbanding of a project that Irons had given so much of his personal time and resources to._

_“No,” he said flatly. “Nottingham is mine. I merely loaned him to you for the duration of the project.” His voice held all the warmth of an arctic winter, clear indication that the conversation was at an end._

_Dr. Carter, however was determined to have his say, despite the warning. “He is a liability, dangerous. Unlike the others, he would be outside a controlled environment. The risk…”_

_“Is mine to take. It is no longer your concern. Ian is_ mine _. My employee, my project…”_ My Son _. The words unspoken to this toad or anyone else still echoed clearly in his mind. Although he held his face impassively, he felt the rage rising in him._

_“Why should you give a damn about some orphaned street rat you picked up? There are plenty more where he came from.” Carter asked, unaware of how close he was to death at this exact moment, and not at the hands of the man he feared. Kenneth Irons was not above doing his own dirty work, if he had no other choice._

_“That is also my affair,” he said dismissively, turning to leave the room. His hand on the door knob, he called out to the man behind him, not making any effort to turn and address him. “As this project is at an end, so too is our association. Make no effort to contact me again….Ever.” The warning was clear, as was the contempt in his voice._

Kenneth turned his thoughts abruptly away from that, so many other things about the meeting, possibilities to consider. He had been pleased by Sara’s outburst on Ian’s behalf, not to mention the way they had read each other’s unspoken signals. It appeared that the two of them were developing at least a working understanding of one another. If he could not have her himself, perhaps he could use their growing respect for one another. He was aware of Ian’s devotion to Sara, although the boy had never said anything to him directly, it was hardly necessary. He had, in fact, encouraged it over the years, to a limited degree. Perhaps it was time to set his contingency plan in motion. It was always a sound decision to have a secondary plan, and he rarely allowed himself only one. Kenneth wondered when he should explain the telepathic connection, that she could connect with Ian in much the way she had with him. It was a piece of information that he had been holding on to very carefully, like a card player not wanting to tip his hand too soon. Too early would be suspicious, but waiting too long could lead to her being more suspicious, more intractable, when he finally did so. He felt a tingle and a moment later heard the knock on the door as Ian and Sara once again entered his private domain.

 

They came into the room hurriedly, not even waiting for permission, giving an idea of the urgency of the situation. Irons looked up curiously at them. “What has happened?” he asked without preamble. Ian took the lead, letting Sara take a moment to contemplate her next move. In spite of what she had told Ian, she was not completely sure she wanted to be involved, on the other hand, she was not sure that she didn’t either. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, and while she was not sure that these two were her enemies, exactly….What she didn’t want was good cops getting involved in this spook shit and getting killed for no real reason. If she were on the case at least she had the heads up. It wasn’t her area, not even her precinct, but she could probably wrangle something from Irons, at least check out the scene. _If it turns out to be nothing, just a routine b and e or someone with a grudge against the company then I can let it go. But if it is part of this mess... well, what am I going to do then?_ She didn’t trust the feds, and that Carter made both her and the Witchblade twitchy. From their reactions she was not the only one. She put her hand up to her face, trying to push away an oncoming headache as the thoughts swirled in her head. _What the hell, cross that bridge when I come to it, or burn it behind me_.

Ian stood in front of his boss making his report as normal, well not as normal. Sara stood near him and she had just about convinced herself to get involved with minimal encouragement from him. He wondered what Irons would think, how he would let this situation play out. He spared a glance towards Sara, who did not seem to be paying attention, lost in her own thoughts. Irons looked at Ian and nodded.

“Very well, you should leave immediately. Perhaps you can take the detective to her precinct on your way. Would that satisfy you, Sara? I am sure that you are anxious to return to your duties.”

“Yeah, about that, Irons,” she said with a resigned sigh. He glanced at her, hoping that she had, in fact reached the logical conclusion. “Maybe I should go with Nottingham here, check this out. If it's got something to do with this morning, then I’m the only other person with the inside information. I can’t see the feds coming clean on this just to make a cop’s life easier.”

“Thank you Sara. I would deem it a personal favour.” He smiled at her graciously.

“Don’t get any ideas, I’m not doing this for you,” she growled at him. “Besides, I’m not sure they’ll even let me get involved, not my area, not my call.” _Great, another thing for my boss to chew me out about_.

“Would it help if I got involved, requested your assistance myself? I do not believe that it would be at all odd if I requested the presence of a member of the police force that I have met personally, not to mention that Ian has cleared.” Sara looked at him suspiciously, but nodded in agreement.

“Sure, I’ll just tell them that you’ve got the hots for me, they’ll understand,” she said sarcastically.

“But, Sara, I do…” he said calmly, watching as her temper rose to new heights. It was a calculated risk he knew, but in this case an honest answer served his purpose so much better than simply ignoring the opportunity. Besides, if he had let it pass, she probably would have been even more suspicious. Ian looked up in complete shock before lowering his head, wondering what Irons was playing at. “I have made no secret of my interest in you. However, since you have chosen not to return that interest, I have not pursued it. That makes it no less true.”

“Your interest is in the Witchblade, not me,” she told him hotly.

“In that you are wrong. I admit that my interest began there, and perhaps I did not express my intentions as well as I should have done. But as I said, I have chosen not to pursue it. Unless, of course, you have changed your mind?” He gave her a smile that she supposed a lot of women found charming, her, it made her nervous.

“Yeah, whatever, let’s just get this over with so I can get back to work.” She dismissed both his suggestion and his explanation, turning on her heel to leave the room. Ian looked at Irons and he nodded his dismissal.

“I will make that phone call, Sara,” he said from behind her as she left, Nottingham on her heels.

 

“Sara, I am sorry for that. I did not know that he…” He stopped, at a loss for words, moving up beside her so he could guide her through the house without further embarrassment. He had not had any idea that his master was going to do anything like that. Whatever game Irons was playing, he had not let Ian in on it. It was almost painful to walk here beside her, feel her anger, and know that there was nothing he could do. She halted suddenly and gave him a look.

“No, I don’t think either of us was expecting that. Smug bastard.” She turned on Ian, ready to take him to task for Irons, but stopped at his lowered eyes. She realised that he really was trying to apologise. She just shook her head in frustration. “Yeah, I suppose I should have though.  Just when I think he’s not so bad, he starts in on me again. But you aren't responsible for your boss's...whatever.” As the words came out of her mouth, she was reminded of how often she had taken his boss out on him. Maybe it was time she stopped. After all, she couldn't be held responsible for Dante.

“I do not understand. Why is his interest so distasteful to you?”

Sara started for a sarcastic answer, but the expression on his face made her reconsider. There was a sort of puzzled look in his eyes that kind of took her off guard. “I can’t explain it, it just does. I mean it’s not like I’m a supermodel or something. It’s not like he really wants _me_. And even if he did, he just... we don’t understand each other…your world and mine don’t meet. He is too used to having anything he wants just fall in his lap and I’m not interested in being used. I’m a cop, that’s all I know how to be, and he’s…well… something else.” She stopped, not sure that she had managed to explain her position, but not really sure what else to say.

“ _His world_ , Sara, not mine. I only live in it. And you are more than just a cop, more than just the Wielder, you are beautiful.” His statements were bold for him and he knew it. But somehow he just needed to say something.

Sara was startled by his words, especially coming so hard on the heels of Irons’ admissions, but as much as she would like to be angry at him the sincerity in his statement was enough to confuse her, put her off a little. “Thanks, Nottingham, I think,” she said, trying to turn the conversation somewhere, anywhere, but this personal emotional stuff. The last thing Sara wanted at this or any other moment was to discuss her feelings with Nottingham. There was no way she ever wanted to share an Oprah moment with Irons’ hyper-lethal assassin; it was just too surreal for words. “Look, let’s just get down there and deal with this.”

“As you wish.”

 

They left the estate, heading for the city. Halfway down the road, Sara’s cell phone began to ring. “Hello,”

“Pezzini.” The voice of Captain Dante came over the line, impatient and irritated.

“Yes, Sir? I’m on my way into the office now.”

“Well, don’t bother. I just got a call from Mr. Kenneth Irons. Apparently there has been some trouble at his office building and he requested you personally. Care to tell me why?”

“I don’t know.  I met him over that thing at the museum, and one of his employees was involved in another one of my cases, but that’s all I know about him.”

“Well, apparently you’ve just rated officially representing the NYPD to him. I suggest you don’t screw up. I’m sending your partner to meet you there to make sure.” Sara suppressed a groan. _Just what I need, my rookie partner hanging over my shoulder asking awkward questions_ , she thought disgustedly. “Yes, Captain,” she said, trying hard to keep her temper down. _This day is just getting better by the minute_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more. You know what to do.


	7. I'd like to resist

They arrived at the building just as Jake McCarty pulled up, Ian expertly parking the car across the street. The garage entrance was already cordoned off, a few bystanders probably drawn by the sound of the sirens. Jake got out of his car and walked over to join them. “Hey, Pez,” he called to her. “What’s the deal here?” Ian gave the blond detective a baleful look and walked over to confer with one of his people, giving her a few minutes alone. “What’s with that guy?” he asked.

“We don’t have enough time to go into it. What did Dante tell you?”

“Nothing much, just that there was an attempted break in and that Irons requested you. So you want to fill me in? I thought you didn’t even like the guy,” Sara gave him a black look.

“I’ll fill you in later, right now let’s find out what happened and try not to step on anyone’s toes.” She led the way to where the perimeter had been established and flashed her badge at the officer on duty. “Hey, who’s in charge here?”

“That’ll be Jorgensen, he’s over there talking to the techs.” Sara nodded her thanks and, with Jake, on her heels walked over to check in.

“Hey, are you Jorgensen? I’m Pezzini, with the one-one.”

“Yeah, I was just told you were coming. What’s the deal, you haven’t got enough to do over there?” he asked. There was a hint of a joke in his voice, but his eyes were serious.

“Sorry about this, not my call. I worked a case involving Irons a while back and now it seems that if something goes wrong…” she left it there, hoping that he took the bait.

“Yeah, he knows your name.”

“Exactly. Besides,” she said, drawing him aside, leaving Jake to look around. “Between you and me, Irons is a little weird, paranoid even, and not without reason, I suppose. I think he figures that since he already had his security run a check on me that I’m safe. Like I said, weird.”

“You know what they say, the rich are different. And speaking of different here comes the security guy. You know anything about him?” he asked, giving Ian an appraising glance.

“Yeah, I know him well enough to talk to, and not to piss him off. That’s all I need or want to know.” Jorgensen gave her a smile. Sara made an inward sigh of relief. The guy seemed nice enough, he bought her story so there wouldn’t be any territory thing and she could get on with it. She spent a few moments reviewing the situation with him while Jake hovered over the techs taking his own notes. At that moment Ian joined them. He looked at Detective Jorgensen with that tight almost smile that tended to make most people want to run and hide.

“Detective Pezzini, nice to see you again.”

“You too, Nottingham. Your boss called mine and got me dragged into this thing. What’s the deal?” As Sara began her conversation with Ian, Jorgensen made his apologies and, with a promise to forward his copy of the notes to her, left them in a hurry. “What is it with you? You come around and suddenly people want to leave,” she said, trying not to laugh. She had seen his effect on others before, but this was the first time she had seen it on one of her own.

“It is a benefit in my line of work to be able to intimidate without actually having to do anything,” he said. This time the smile he gave her was real, just for a moment before the professional mask reappeared.

“Remind me of that next time I need to talk to my captain. I need to look things over, how’s your man?” she asked, turning back to the business at hand.

“He did not make it,” Ian replied, a small note of sadness in his voice. “He died on the way to the hospital, too much damage. He would have retired in five months. I put him back here to wait it out, let him keep his dignity. This is a quiet post and required very little effort.”

“I’m sorry. What do you think about this?” she started to ask more, but Jake was coming back and there were some things she did not need to say in front of the rookie. It didn’t matter, as a blond woman in glasses who needed Ian’s attention interrupted the rest of the conversation. She caught him, quickly and efficiently separated them, and left Sara standing there with a murder investigation, Jake, and his questions.

 

Before he could begin, she stopped him. “Look, Jake. I will explain everything in the car on the way back, okay? Right now let’s get what we need so we can get out of here. Deal?”

“Deal,” he said in a tone of voice that was none too pleased with the situation. They covered the grounds, made preliminary witness lists, arranged for the reports to be sent back to them, and headed for the car. Sara snagged the keys and slipped behind the wheel, feeling a little better for being in the driver’s seat. They started the return journey in silence as she tried hard to figure out what to say to Jake that would satisfy him. “Sara, what’s going on?” he asked finally. “I saw you yesterday, getting into the car with Irons and that goon of his.”

“Nottingham’s not a goon,” she shot back at him reflexively, wondering as she did so why she was defending Ian all of a sudden.

“Nottingham, as in Ian Nottingham, our missing Black Dragon?”

“Yes.” Sara answered slowly, as if talking to a small child.

“Mr. ‘I’m the only Black Dragon not dead under mysterious circumstances’? The only reason he isn’t in jail is that we never had enough to hold him. The guy is creepy and dangerous.”

“Yes, that’s him," she said, ignoring his commentary. “Listen Jake, I’m not going to talk about this now. He straightened the other thing out with me, and we are square, I'm good with it. And just what were you doing following me? I told you it wasn’t necessary.”

“I was a little worried, okay? I mean first the feds drag you off, and then Dante’s got you in his office. You aren’t telling me anything, that’s pretty normal, but…”

“Wait a minute there rookie, I’m the senior officer here. Since when do I have to explain my actions to you? You may be my partner, but you sure as hell aren’t my keeper. I can take care of myself.” Her temper flared up and she tried to concentrate on her driving as traffic picked up around them.

“Yeah, that explains why you went off with Irons last night and didn’t make it home? You think I didn’t notice you getting out of the car with Nottingham, or the fact that you haven’t changed since yesterday?” he shot back with a little more anger than he usually showed. Sara was shocked, she was also pissed.

“Okay, you want to know what’s going on? Irons asked me to have dinner with him and Nottingham to do some consulting. Especially with everything going on, they thought I might have some ideas. There have been some threats on his life and he wanted a police perspective. They’ve both met me and since I’ve cleared their security, it was my name that came up. While we were talking, they had a hit on the security system. I gave them a hand and since it was late, Irons offered to let me stay.”

“I’m sure he did,” Jake said sarcastically. He really liked Sara and the thought of her involved with Irons bugged him in ways that he didn’t want to try to explain.

“Jake, stop it.” _I swear_ , she thought, _the next person that suggests that I have something going with Kenneth Irons is going to get it_. “I don’t exactly _like_ the man myself, but he asked for my help. That’s why he asked for me this morning. Nottingham thinks it might all be connected and since I knew the situation…” She let him draw his own conclusions. It wasn’t the best explanation, but it was all she could come up with at the moment. Jake was a pretty good guy, for a rookie. He wouldn’t let her down, at least she didn’t think so. Her cell phone began to ring just as they were turning into the station. She parked the car and answered it, motioning for Jake to stay where he was.

“Sara,” Ian’s voice came to her over the line with an urgency she had only heard once, during the Black Dragons thing.

“What’s happened this time?” she asked him.

“The office was the diversion. Someone just made another attempt to bypass the security system at the house. They managed to black out two cameras, but they did not get onto the grounds and this time no one was hurt.”

“Where’s Irons?” As much as she didn’t like the man and didn’t want to be involved, she could feel herself getting dragged deeper into it by the minute.

“On route to the office, he had just left. I am still at Vorschlag. I had just finished sweeping the building when I got the call. At this point, I think it is safe to say that the agents were right, someone _is_ trying to kill him.” Sara took in his words and started to back the car out even as they were still speaking.

“Where do you want me to meet you? I just got to the station and I still have my partner with me.” She heard Ian sigh on the other end of the phone.

“At the office. I will tell them to expect you. I have everything locked down here, so it is probably the safest place until we can decide what to do. It will be hard to convince Mr. Irons to take this seriously, he might be difficult.” She remembered what Irons had said to her before Mobius had attacked him. _As long as Ian Nottingham is on the job, I have nothing to fear_. She felt a shiver go up her spine.

“He always is. I’ll be there in ten. You’ll need to get your boss back on the phone with mine,” she said in a resigned tone as she drove back down the street, waving away Jake’s questions as she tried to talk and drive at the same time. All she had wanted this morning was to get thorough the day, get home and take a long bath. _Looks like that plan is shot to hell._

“Thank you, Sara,” Ian said quietly.

“Thank me when this is all over.” She closed the phone and put it back in her pocket, turning to Jake. “We have to make a little detour,” she told him.

“Where to?”

“We’re going back to Vorschlag. I think things have just officially gotten worse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a little more. This story is in the middle of a massive rewrite as well as getting posted and finally finished. if you like the story, let me know. You know where the button is.


	8. I don't think I'm able

They walked through the house, Ian setting a brutal pace, and Sara was having a difficult time keeping up. She was not happy to be stuck here, stuck in this situation with Irons and his trained guard dog. Yes, she had screwed up, she should not have taken out her anger on him. _After all, it was not really his fault. I am the one who came up with the cover, it was my plan. I really shouldn’t go around beating up on him. What am I turning into? Seems like I am getting worse, I’m not sure that I even like myself very much anymore._ With these miserable thoughts running through her head, she followed the tall black back before her as he took her through a series of rooms, culminating in a huge kitchen. They flashed through the room, ignoring the older woman who was standing at the stove stirring something that smelled really good. Sara’s stomach growled a little and she realised that she had not eaten in some hours, but considering how she had treated him, she did not figure that Ian was going to offer her a meal, and Sara was certainly not going to ask.

They exited the back door, the bitter cold a sudden shock after the comfortable warmth of the house. Ian held the door for her, allowing her to finally catch up with him. He closed it behind them and slowed, allowing her to walk next to him, although he still did not address her, or tell her where they were going. He led her across the grounds towards a small stand of trees that lined the edge of what was probably a really beautiful formal garden during the right time of year. Once past the trees she saw a small building, surrounded by a high chain link fence. It was screened from the house and the rest of the yard, but it was still an attractive building. _Leave it to Irons_ , she thought, _I will bet his shed is probably fancier than my apartment._

They walked towards the little building and Ian reached into his pocket and removed a large ring of keys. Sara watched as he flicked through them and opened the door, holding it for her as she walked past him into the dim interior of the building. The first thing she noticed was the sound. The greeting barks of more than a dozen dogs, separated into small groups or individuals with more chain fencing as they all called their hellos to the dark figure with her. Ian smiled like a small boy showing off his toys.

“Sara, I would like you to met the four footed members of our security force, as well as Mr. Irons' personal pets.”

Looking around the room, she could see that the dogs came in two distinctive breeds, the black and brown Rottweiler she recognised, but the larger, shaggy ones, she did not know, although she had seen one of them before, when she had come to the house to talk to their master. “Wow,” was all she could think of saying as she watched him reach into a cupboard and pull out a handful of some kind of dog treats.

 

Sara regarded the dogs with both curiosity and caution, much the same way they were looking at her. “Um, yeah, I’ve seen one of the big ones before, although I don’t know what it is. Are they safe?” She moved a little closer. From the inside, Sara could see that the place was a lot deeper than she had first thought and incredibly well furnished, if you were a dog. There were those tables that they had in vet’s offices, and some kind of raised-up giant bathtub. Everything was clean and polished within an inch of its life, gleaming stainless steel and tile, a real surprise when animals were involved. Moving closer still, she could see that the individual kennels had bed pads down and toys lay around them. Obviously working for Irons paid pretty well, even if you were a dog.

“I would not go that far,” Ian answered, disturbing her thoughts. “Although the Irish wolfhounds, the big ones there, are pets, and for the most part very quiet, they are, in fact, quite powerful. But since you are here with me, they are willing to give you the benefit of the doubt until I tell them otherwise.”

 _Great, my life in the hands of psycho-boy, and I have to trust him not to tell them to eat me_ , she thought and immediately regretted it. Ian had turned to look at her, but something in her face must have upset him. She saw a flash of pain in those brown eyes, almost as if he could read her mind. Then he turned back and knelt before the kennels. _You aren’t being fair to him_ , she told herself. _He hasn’t done anything but be nice to you and make the odd attempt to save your life_.

“So, ah, Ian, are you going to introduce me to them? I mean, that was kind of the point, right?” she asked, forcing a smile onto her face and walking over slowly to where he knelt by the kennel, a pair of Rotties leaning against the fence for scratches, while the other dogs all moved as close to him as they could get.

“Are you sure that you trust me?” he asked, a bitter note in his voice that she had never heard, except maybe sometimes in her dreams. He did not look at her, made no move to rise from where he was.

“Yeah, I guess I do. Sorry I snapped at you. I am just hungry or something, and this case is simply not helping.” Immediately he looked up at her, brown eyes meeting green, the soft golden highlights striking her suddenly in the clear light of the kennel. _Wow, those could be devastating; wonder why he is still unattached_? she thought for a moment before she put the brakes on, not wanting her thoughts to go any further down that road. _Probably the same reason you are,_ she told herself _, work-aholic, and Irons to boot. Who is going to notice him with Mr. Moneybags around? Besides, where’s he going to find the time? Now, you have got to stop this, thinking about Ian as if you want to become friendly with the guy_. But that little voice in the back of her head popped up one more time, _Why not_?

“Why didn't you tell me? I could have arranged for you to have something to eat. Mr. Irons will not be pleased with me if I've allowed you to have a bad impression of his hospitality.”

“I won’t tell him if you won’t,” she hastened to reassure him. “The truth is, I got so tied up in what we were doing that I completely forgot, and I didn't see you stopping for a snack either. I can be pretty casual when it comes to remembering to eat.”

“I understand,” he said with a grin, “I am much the same. When we have finished here, I will have something brought up for you. I believe Cook was making one of her stews when we left. It is really only for the staff, but if you do not mind something informal…”

“Informal? Ian, I don’t know what to do _with_ formal, you should know that by now. And I will if you will join me. It's not like you've eaten either, and we can finish getting our stories straight for tonight.”

Ian felt the shock of pleasure when she asked him to join her. Her earlier distrust had wounded him, but she seemed to have worked it out within herself. _Perhaps I should make a habit of bringing food with me at all times if that is what it takes to make her happy, food and coffee_. Somehow, he could not resist making an irreverent mental comparison between placating the Wielder and the treats nestled in his pocket. Aloud, he said, “I will arrange it. Now, would you like to meet my friends?”

“Sure,” she said, kneeling down beside him, still a little cautious. While Sara was far from scared of dogs, actually she kind of liked them, would love to have one of her own if her schedule were more normal, still these were trained guard dogs, for all that at the moment they were frisking around like puppies. The wolfhounds were standing quietly, looking regal and demanding attention in a very different way, as if they could command their due.

“Perhaps we will start with them,” Ian said.

 _It’s amazing, the man can actually talk in a straight sentence_ , Sara thought some time later as they headed for the house. Once they had gotten started with introductions, things had deteriorated rapidly. He had introduced her to the dogs, and the dogs to her. The wolfhounds were gentle, despite their size, relatively quiet, and more than willing to lick any hand that offered a treat once it had been explained that she was considered part of the security staff or something. They leaned against her for petting, almost knocking her over. The Rotties were another story… enthusiastic, obedient, but more than happy for a bit of a wrestle. It was clear that Ian spent a certain mount of time out here with them, and Sara wondered if Irons knew that his lethal and loyal employee was a sucker for small furry things, or not so small furry things.

“So, I don’t get it. Irons keeps pets? Somehow he doesn’t strike me as the kind to roll around on the floor with dogs, more like the kind that would get upset if they shed on his suit.”

Ian gave an impish grin. “You did notice Mr. Iron’s penchant for grey inside the house, did you not?”

Sara laughed out loud, the image of the big grey dogs sitting in Irons’ elegant lap while he told them a story, the dogs looking at him with that rapt attention that his voice seemed to command at times. Ian gave her a curious look as she tried to put the thought into words. “Don’t worry about it, just the thought of him playing with dogs is a little too funny.”

“He usually only has the adults in the house, although he does spend time with the puppies, observing their training. But actually…” he said, looking around almost as if he were afraid he would be overheard. “Can I trust you with a secret, Sara?”

“Uh, sure Nottingham,” she responded, curiosity getting the best of her.

“There was a time, just after I returned from the service, I happened into the library quite late, and found him on the couch with one of the young dogs in his lap. He was…unaware of my presence.”

“Yeah, you have that effect on people,” she said sarcastically, trying to picture Irons letting down his guard, ever. She could see why Ian would want to keep that a secret though, somehow Irons did not strike her as the kind that would want anyone to know that there was a chink in his armour. “I will definitely keep that to myself though. Somehow I don’t think anyone would believe me anyway.”

Assured that the secret was safe with his Wielder, the two of them began the walk through the screen of trees towards the back door, thoughts turned to food, and the pleasant prospect of some quiet time alone with Sara, even if it was only business. The walk was pleasantly crisp after the heat of the kennels and Sara looked like she was really starting to relax when her phone started its irritating buzz.

“Pezzini,” she growled into it. Now that she was aware of it, her stomach was sending urgent messages to her head, telling her that a serious headache was on its way if she didn’t get something into it soon, and another interruption was not guaranteed to make it any better.

“Hey Sara…”

“Rookie, this better be important,” she snapped, casting a glance over to Ian she could see that he was as thrilled as she was, if not less so.

“Sorry partner, just thought I ought to check in, Irons is getting ready to leave, or so I was told. Do you have the vaguest idea how many people go in and out of that man’s office? It’s been like trying to do interviews while trying to conduct a surveillance operation in the middle of Grand Central station.”

“Well, you knew what you were in for when you signed on, it can’t all be glamour.” The trademark Pezzini sarcasm was in full force, and Ian, listening briefly between his own questions, could almost feel sorry for the rookie, almost.

“Yeah, that’ll work.” Sara cast a quick look at Nottingham, but he seemed to have taken advantage of her call to make one of his own, probably with the same information. He definitely did not look happy.

“What have you been doing while I was doing the hard work?” Jake asked. “Any connection between the attempted break in and our DB?”

“Could be, too early to tell. Something about this whole situation just really stinks. Make sure Irons gets safely to his car and then follow him here. At least you won't get lost. As much as we don’t want to, looks like we’re stuck, at least for the moment.”

“Cool, I always wanted to see how the other half lives.”

“Great, now I got a star struck rookie, just what this day needs.”

“Hey, lighten up, partner, it could be worse…” Just as Jake was about to illuminate her on that point, they reached the back door.

“Uh, Jake, I have to go.  Nottingham needs me to look at something…I'll see you when you get here,” she rushed him off the phone and closed it with a decisive click.

“I need you to look at…” he asked with just an edge of a smile.

“Yeah, you need me to look at that food you promised before the convoy gets here or I’m going to bite your boss’s head off, probably followed by yours and Jake’s for dessert, and trust me, you do _not_ want to be around me when I get really cranky.” She said it all with a smile, but Ian was left wondering.

 _If what I have seen is her just a little upset, I really have no desire to see ‘cranky_ ’. The thought of putting Sara’s temper in the same room as his master, who he could be fairly certain was in a foul mood after having his day interrupted so spectacularly, not to mention the inconvenience of federal agents in his house, and MacCartey in his office, was actually enough to make the former Black Dragon shiver. It could make the situation nothing less than explosive. “Then we should attend to that without delay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know this is old and a mostly dead fandom, but if you like it, and are reading it (I hope it is still a good read), please to leave a comment in the little box.


	9. More Trouble

It took only minutes, and Ian and Sara were settled back in the small dining room where they had eaten breakfast what seemed like centuries ago. There was a large tureen of stew, bread, and an entire pot of absolutely wonderful coffee.

“This is great,” Sara said appreciatively. “It might almost be worth putting up with your boss for the food alone.”

“Cook does a wonderful job,” he said. “I will be sure to pass on your compliments,” he said. The soft hurt of his voice told her she had let her mouth get away from her.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to insult your…”

“I realise that you do not understand what I do or why,” he said softly. “Perhaps it is best…”

“No, Nottingham, I don’t mean that, I just…I kind of let my mouth get away from me sometimes.” Ian looked up at her. “Okay, a lot of the time,” she admitted. “If we are going to get through this thing, you have to understand that. It’s just how I am, nothing personal…”

“Except that you do not like me, or trust me,” he answered, a sad look on his face.

“I don’t _know_ you. You show up, drop hints about things I don’t understand, and then disappear again, or I find you following me around. In the last 24 hours I have spent more time with you, gotten to talk to you more than I have in the entire two months that I have known you.”

“And your conclusion?” he asked, a little spark of hope starting in his heart, even though he did his best to hide it.

"I don’t know, but if you can manage to keep the crap to a minimum, we’ll see.”

“Thank you for that at least,” he said.

“Don’t thank me yet, I am sarcastic, bad tempered, and I like to keep people at a distance. Those are my better qualities.”

“Isolation imparts a certain safety to it, or so I was told as a child.”

“Maybe, but it can be pretty lonely sometimes,” Sara said, more to herself than anyone else.

“Yes, it can," he agreed, turning back to his food.

 

The peace that descended between them was one of understanding, two people who had reached some kind of equilibrium, even if they were not completely sure what it was. Instead they sat together in the small dining room and concentrated on finishing their food, in the last few minutes of peace before everyone arrived. All too soon the quiet was brought to a halt as a familiar beeping began to emanate from Ian’s pocket.

Geeze, Sara thought as they made their way toward the front of the house, _you would think that it was the Pope coming_. The traffic in the hall had increased and there was something of a frantic edge about all of it. “Is it always like this when your boss comes home?” she asked.

“No,” he said shortly, dodging a girl in a maid's uniform bustling down the hall with a vase of flowers that towered above her. “Since I had extra security implemented, however, I am afraid the routine is a bit upset. Also there is the matter of the meeting this evening, and Mr. Irons is expected at a benefit to support the Symphony.”

“And you are going to let him go, with the threats?” she asked, shocked

“Perhaps you can persuade him against it,” he responded sharply. Clearly he was less than happy about the situation.

“Yeah, like that would happen. In case you haven’t noticed, your boss and I mix like oil and water.”

“Possibly, but there is certainly very little other hope otherwise. I have tried.”

"Handcuffs?" she suggested.

 

They opened the back door just in time to see Irons exiting the limo. He barely acknowledged the two of them, moving past them with his assistant trailing behind, trying to keep up with his easy long legged stride. Jake’s police issue sedan looked out of place in the yard of the elegant house and Sara was not surprised when Ian asked for the keys to have it moved around to the rear. There was a brief moment when it looked as if Jake would refuse, but in the end he shook his head and handed over the keys.

Ian passed them over and the two vehicles disappeared around the house and out of sight as the reluctant trio returned to the darkened interior. As they walked, Jake began to fill Sara in on the results of his preliminary interviews.

“Okay, we have no eyewitnesses except the guard on the cameras and he didn't see anything that we can’t see on the tapes.  I feel like the shooter knew where the cameras were. It was not easy to keep an eye on Irons, although at least he stayed in his office.  The receptionist said some days he's all over the place. Still, man has people coming and going all the time, and that little secretary or whatever of his, she just keeps running. I thought when you got to his level, you just sort of sat around and let everyone else do the work.”

“And how many other billionaires do you personally know, rookie?” she asked, sarcastically.

“Well, you know, television…” he started lamely. Ian turned around and gave him a look of disbelief before turning with a sneer and a shake of the head, continuing to lead them into the depths of the house.

“What’s with him?” Jake whispered to her as the followed. Sara just shook her head.

 

Standing in the corner of the bathroom, he cradled the cell phone close to his face and prayed that no one caught him, or that it wasn't bugged. Quickly, he dialled the familiar number and waited for the answer on the other end. “Yes, I have the information. Irons will be attending the symphony benefit tonight; they couldn't talk him out of it.”

“Good, we will have the other operative in place.”

“How will I recognise him?” he asked quietly. There was an answering laugh from the other end of the phone.

“This operative was chosen to appeal to Irons personally. You should have no trouble recognising her. You are to maintain your distance, though, and give her assistance only if she asks for it. Beyond that, keep yourself out of the way.”

“Yes, sir. Are you sure that this…” he asked nervously.

“That’s all,” the voice on the end of the line finished with a click of the phone. Cautiously, Jake MacCartey slipped the phone back into his pocket and washed his hands, taking a few more moments for his heartbeat to steady. _If Sara ever finds out what I did_ , he thought with a shudder, _Nottingham will be the least of my worries_. The consequences were something he really preferred not to think about as he returned to the room where Sara was waiting for him.

 

Jake rejoined his partner and her pet freak in a small room on a lower level of the house. The passage was more utilitarian than he would have expected in such a large mansion. Of course he had not really seen any of the grand bits. When they arrived, Nottingham and Sara had met them and after a brief consultation with his boss, Irons had gone into the house and he had been directed to hand over the keys, so that the department issue POS could be moved and almost immediately he had followed them into a service corridor. So far his jaunt into the world of the rich and famous had led nowhere but the servant's entrance. The room where they were currently set up appeared to be some kind of sitting room/breakroom with a large table at one end. Jake walked in to find the two of them with their heads together over what looked like unrolled maps or drawings.

“Hey, what’s the scoop?” he asked. Sara gave him the barest nod of acknowledgement. Nottingham, on the other hand, looked up long enough to give him a soul piercing look that chilled Jake right down to his shoes, almost as if the man knew what Jake had just done. _He couldn’t possibly have the bathrooms bugged, could he_? Jake thought to himself with a little start, _nah, not possible, no way_. But still the look lingered on in his mind long after his attention had turned to the diagrams in front of them.

“Okay, now the attack this morning on Vorschlag…Jake, have you got a preliminary from CSU or Vic?” Sara asked as Ian took a different diagram from the large roll sitting next to him and unrolled the master blueprints for the back entrance to Irons' downtown office building.

“Yeah, I had them fax over the basics, nothing much though, except what we already knew.  No shell casings at the scene so they policed their brass, scratches on the rear door and an attempt to open the housing on the scanner, like they were going to try some kind of bypass. Pictures have been sent off to see if we can narrow down the tool marks. The vic, a Mr….”

“Markham, his name was Fred Markham.  He was a former Marine, a veteran of Vietnam, and had a wife and three children. One of his sons is a police officer in Brooklyn, the other is a Marine stationed in Saudi Arabia. His youngest daughter is a student at Columbia, and his daughter in law just made him a grandfather for the first time. This is a man worthy of respect.  He is considerably more than just a ‘Vic’ and deserves better, especially from a…”

“Hey,” Jake started, he could hear the steel, in Nottingham’s voice and there was no way he was going to be treated that way by some hired thug. It was not like he knew anything about the dead guy, except that he was dead. Jake tensed, waiting for the attack.  It was about time the two of them settled this.

Sara woke out of her trance just in time to step between them, her mind still reeling from what was probably the longest, clearest speech she had ever heard from Ian Nottingham. “All right, you two, enough! Play nice...” she said with a sharp edge of her own that made it clear it was an order and not a request.

“Hey, partner…”

“Jake, not another word,” she said, giving him a look that made it clear he had screwed up with her, again. “Ian, he meant no disrespect, it’s just the job.”  She gave Jake a quelling look as he started to open his mouth again. "Now, back to business. No problems getting the surveillance tapes?"

“No, that little blond secretary or whatever she is in Irons' office gave me the copies. I have them in the car, and I requested them from the building across the street, and the bank on the corner.  Might end up coming down to running plates, but...” Sara raised an eyebrow at Jake's description but let it pass. She just wanted to get through this without anyone managing to kill anyone. Not for the first time, she missed Danny. He would never have made the rookie’s mistake and alienated Nottingham further, It was easy to become detached on the job, sometimes she thought she had gotten too detached, but still…Besides, according to Danny, they needed the rookie. Just what his role was in all this besides potential punching bag, she was not sure, yet.

The ringing telephone completely diffused the situation as Ian rose to answer the offending instrument. “Yes, Sir?” he began, the familiar voice immediately changing his focus.

 

Ian entered his master’s suite and immediately positioned himself in the doorway of the sitting room, head lowered, eyes hooded, body at parade rest, waiting for acknowledgement and permission to speak. Under lowered lids he watched the final preparations for the night’s Gala benefit, the adjusting of shirt studs and cuffs, the straightening of imagined imperfections in the white tie. He had voiced his disapproval of Irons’ attendance, in light of the information they had received, and the two attempts to breach security, only to be reminded that so far none of the attempts had been directly at him, and had not been in public places. The best Ian had managed was to double security to and from the event, appointing his second in command to stand in his usual position of shadow, as well as an additional bodyguard, and arranging a decoy car to take an alternate route to the Met and back to discourage attempts along the way. It was clear that Irons was not going to allow himself to be inconvenienced by such a trivial thing as another attempt on his life, especially considering his contempt for the sources of the intelligence. It was not a perfect situation by any means, but Ian was sure that after the two attempts already, there would be at least some time before another was made.

“And what is it that our fair Wielder has seen? The Witchblade has been remarkably active today.” The calm voice startled him. He chided himself for allowing his attention to wander and hurried to put his thoughts in order, to avoid incurring Irons’ wrath.

“I am unsure, sir. She had a vision, I believe it may have concerned my past, but she did not share the information with me. The images were unclear, and I was driving at the time.”

“The ‘blade speaks in metaphor, in allegory, the language of the subconscious if you will. It is not a language that our direct police detective is conversant in, even though she uses it everyday to her advantage. It will be up to you to teach her.”

“But sir, she does not wish my help. She considers my answers…” he thought for a moment, looking for the right way to explain. _What is it with you and Irons and this mysterioso crap? Oh, no, not again. Don't start with that mumbo jumbo_. Her words from past encounters came back to him. _How about I ask the questions, and you try to answer them, okay_? “Less than helpful,” he ended, lamely, keeping his head down in expectation of the berating to come.

“Then you will find a way to make it more clear to her. What else has happened?”

“Her guide has appeared, the partner, Daniel Woo.”

“An interesting choice.  How did you come by this information?” he asked, moving suddenly to take Ian’s chin in his hand, meeting brown eyes with green. “What did you see?” Irons asked sharply.

“Nothing, she told me herself,” Ian answered, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart. He could feel the waves of agitation flowing from his master and wondered what he had done to cause the upset.

“And why did Sara feel the need to explain this to you?” he asked quietly

“I could sense him, her guardian angel. He asked her to deliver a message to me.”

“To you?” Irons released his face and turned on his heel, walking toward the desk in the far corner of the sitting room. “Perhaps you underestimate the Wielder’s esteem for you?”

“No sir,” he answered, keeping his voice level and controlled, much more confident that he felt.

“And the message?” Irons asked as he contemplated all the information in light of his own knowledge and experience. It galled him that he had been unable to devote the time to sharing Sara’s visions today, as he would have liked to. All he was left with was vague images, and a general feeling of unease that he could not quite pin down, but was irritating like a pebble in his shoe.

“To trust her partner, McCarty, that he is necessary,” Ian spat out the last with distaste.

Kenneth smiled to himself, amused at the level of animosity that Ian tried so hard to hide behind the mask of professional distaste. He knew well what was going on inside the boy, the fact that the Wielder’s annoying partner was still breathing was more credit to the years of control that he had been taught since birth than anything else. “Interesting, I would have thought the ‘blade would chose a different guide for her…I will have to consider this, and you, you will continue to keep a close eye on her. This round is not one of my choosing, but we will play the hand as it is dealt until such time as I can find a way to affect the flow of events, hmmmm?” He turned his piercing gaze back to Ian, as he adjusted the white tie reflexively. “You will find out everything you can this evening, and do everything necessary to keep Sara’s attention focused on the case. Let her devotion to her duty serve our purpose, again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, since I have at least two people interested, here is a little more. There has been some pretty extensive rewriting since the original, but here goes. If you like it, tell me, please. It's hard to keep the muse going, especially on an old story.


	10. The trouble with rookie

“So I sat there and tried to get the interviews done, but most of the witnesses didn’t see anything, they just came when they heard the shots. Not a lot to go on. One of them thought they saw a black van drive away, but they did not get a make or model, much less a license plate. That pretty much covers it, besides trying to keep an eye on all the people in and out of Irons' office. I thought when you got to his level that there were underlings or something. I swear there were people in and out of there all morning. That secretary or whatever, the cute, uptight blonde? She gave me a list of all his scheduled appointments for today, the thing is like three pages long,” Jake finished. He was trying to stay professional, keep his personal opinions to himself, but the situation with Sara and Nottingham was really bugging him.  How she could stand that creepy guy, much less date him was just too weird?  He found himself unaccountably angry with his partner. After all she had a rep for being a little wild, but not for anything illegal, and anything associated with Nottingham just stunk.

“She’s a personal assistant and if I were you I would keep my mind off her and on the job. Stick to girls in your own league, rookie,” Sara said with an attempt at a companionable smile. She knew that her little fairy tale was bugging Jake, but there was nothing she could or would do about it. It was her ass on the line, not his.

“Sara, I just don’t get it,” he said, finally.

“I don’t either.  I mean the timeframe, why wait so long, and what is with the rest of the team,” she said, still trying to put everything into perspective as she got up and started to pace.

“That is not what I mean, and you know it. I mean you, Nottingham, Irons…”

“Jake, we need to concentrate on the case, my personal life is still my own, you got that?” she said sharply.

“Hey, I’m not the one that was flirting with a suspect just a couple days ago.”

“That wasn’t flirting, that was information gathering.  You need to learn the difference. Interrogation is a _skill_ , and sometimes, intimidation is _not_ what you need. You've got a lot to learn, rookie,” she said, working frantically to get herself out of a situation that she had not expected. “I was just being nice to the guy. You know, more flies with honey and that kind of thing. I do not recall asking you about what happened with the model.”

“That’s different, that’s…”

“Why, why is that different, because you’re a guy? I don’t think so. Now before you say anything else I’m going to have to make you regret later, do you want to discuss this _case_?”

Jake decided that discretion was the better part of not getting Sara angry at him. The Pezzini temper was infamous and he knew he was pushing it. _I’m probably lucky she did not knock my teeth down my throat for that last comment_ , he acknowledged to himself as he nodded his agreement. _Besides, there will be plenty of time later to find out about this Nottingham thing_.

“We’ve got nothing, unless it's on those tapes. They had this ‘scoped out pretty good.”

“No one is that good; they had to leave something behind.”

“I’m telling you, Partner…”

“This is not just a drive by or an armed robbery, these men are professionals,” Ian said as he reentered the room. Sara looked over, there was something on his face, a sort of set hardness of expression that confused her a little, but only for a moment. “We will know more after we have talked to Agent James.” Sara smiled a little, at least he had made noise, she knew that had he wished, they never would have known he was there until he made them aware.

“Well, getting this over is fine by me,” Jake said a bit petulantly. “Hey Sara, you want to grab a beer and maybe beat me at a couple games of pool when we’re finished?” He tossed the words over his shoulder as he moved towards the table and chairs set together at the back of the room.

“I had thought we were having dinner together, Sara, as Mr. Irons is out for the evening. It is so rare that we have the opportunity to spend time alone.” Ian reached out, sliding his arm around her, close, almost touching but not quite, ushering her to the table. She looked at him, took a note of the rictis corpse grin that twisted his features. _So Irons went out to his fancy party anyway, despite the warnings_. _No wonder he is upset_ , she thought, _just like Irons, here we are trying to save his ass and he dumps Ian to keep up his image_.

“Yeah, sorry Jake,” she said, giving her partner an almost disappointed look, almost. “Already have plans.” _When is he going to get the point that I’m NOT interested. I mean he is nice enough but still_ …She leaned closer to Ian, with a silent prayer that he understood and would not get any ideas. Not that he'd ever made anything that could in any sense be considered a move.

“Irons out for the evening, huh? What, the boss lost confidence, Nottingham; figure he is safer without you?” Jake sneered. He knew he was pushing the man’s buttons but he didn’t care, this was just too much. Screw the meeting, he was not going to sit here and be dissed by overgrown goth-boy.

Sara reached for Ian, but she was not nearly fast enough, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to be. Jake had been way out of line, and she was about as sick of the two of them wrangling back and forth as she could get. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered if it would not just be simpler to let Ian beat the crap out of him and be done with it, but she was not sure, considering, he would be able to stop there. The rookie had questioned his professional abilities, and Sara knew what that felt like. She remembered what she had gone through with some of the older cops, the ones that did not think a woman had a place on the force unless she was handing out parking tickets and making coffee.

Ian grabbed Jake by the collar, pulling him off his feet and raising him effortlessly until they were eye to eye. “You have the nerve to question my professional competence? You who are no more than a…”

“Ian, put him down,” Sara said, trying to keep her voice calm. Ian turned to look at her, his eyes dark with pain and anger. She realised that he was hurting, that Irons' choice to leave without him was affecting him deeply and he was looking for someone to take it out on. “The rookie will apologise, won’t you Jake? Please Ian, we don’t have time for this.”

Jake let out a half choking gargle that could have been translated as just about anything. It would have almost been funny, almost. Ian looked at the face of the rookie, rapidly turning purple. He knew that if he did not let go of him, Sara would be angry, that he would have once again alienated her, and there was the message from her guardian spirit, but still, it was difficult. The sudden ringing of the phone froze them all in their places like a strange museum diorama. Slowly, Ian released the no longer particularly struggling rookie and moved toward the phone with deliberate steps.

Sara moved over to the rookie and gave him a discrete slap to the back off the head. “Stop pushing him, rookie,” Sara whispered. “You were way over the line and you know it. Next time he might not get distracted, and if you open you mouth like that again, I’ll just leave the room and let him.”

“Our unwelcome guests are here.”

 

After what proved to be an interminably long, if slightly interesting meeting, they managed to rid themselves of “Jake the nuisance”, as Ian privately thought of him, when he did not consider him in more pejorative terms. “What is it with these guys?” Sara asked, exasperated. “Do they have their personalities removed when they sign up?”

“I believe that it is a training requirement,” Ian said, his burst of humour catching her off guard.

“Either that or they are chosen because of it,” Sara said, still laughing. _Nottingham, a sense of humour, who knew?_ Sara thought _, there may actually be more to him than I…stop it, stop it now. You are not getting yourself more deeply involved in this than absolutely necessary. And now how do I get myself out of this house and oh, my god I agreed to have dinner with him_. Sara took a deep breath, wondering how exactly to explain it to him. “Hey, Nottingham listen, about dinner…”

“If you do not wish to join me, I will take you home. I only offered because of Detective MacCartey.”

“What? Listen here. I…” she started hotly.

“Please, let me explain,” he said, cutting her off in mid-sentence. “I sensed that you did not want to take him up on his offer. My only intention was to save you from an uncomfortable situation. I will drive you home now.” Sara looked up in surprise at the soft note in his voice. She could see a just a hint of hurt in his down turned face as he quickly moved away from her to lead her toward the door. _Yeah, it has been a long day, but that is no excuse to keep kicking him around. He has had a pretty shitty day too_ , she thought. _And in the middle of it, Irons runs off to some party and dumps him with this situation, and me, and nothing to do but twiddle his thumbs and worry_.

“Tell ya what, why don’t you have dinner with me?” _What are you **doing** inviting him to dinner?_

“You want me to have dinner with you?” he asked. It was hard to believe his ears. Had Sara just actually suggested that they spend time together?

“Yeah well, don’t try to make anything out of it. Just figured I kind of owed you for getting me out of dinner with the Rookie. And staying here just doesn’t work for me.”

“The house can be a little overwhelming if you are not accustomed to it,” he said, remembering a day when he got lost as a small child when hiding from Mrs. Hancock. It felt just like an eternity before he was found, scared to go forward, scared to go back among the storage rooms of the lower level.

“A little? I don’t know how you ever find anything.”

“With a certain amount of difficulty and lots of practice,” Ian told her with a grin as he lead her down the corridor.


	11. The Trouble with Duty

Ian entered the great room quietly and took his accustomed place in the corner, waiting for Irons to acknowledge him. It could be moments or hours before he did, but Ian was long accustomed to the wait. “And how is fair Sara this evening, Ian? I trust that the two of you managed to settle some of the differences between you?”

“She is well, sir.”

“Good,” Irons answered. “You have a question?” He could sense something in Ian’s waiting silence, a kind of expectant air that he had long ago learned to read.

“Sir...” he asked hesitantly, trying to find the words. “Why have you agreed to allow me to support Sara’s deception?”

Irons sat quietly for a moment. The answers were many, but only some of them were necessary to the completion of the task, while others could hinder it further. “Have you decided suddenly to question my judgment?” he asked softly.

“No sir, I merely wish to understand _my_ duty.”

“Understanding is not necessary, merely compliance.  However, in this case I will allow a small bit of latitude." He paused for a second, allowing the boy to focus. This was going to take very precise directions. He could not put the plan into action all at once, rather he had to ease the boy into his role. "Sara was correct in one thing, it does not serve her interests or mine to have it appear that she and I are lovers. No matter how much I wish it were otherwise, she is deeply and unfortunately attached to this pedestrian career of hers, and any association that damages it will only serve to arouse her suspicions and drive her away from us, from me.”

“But sir...” he started, only to be silenced by the wave of an elegant hand.

“By allowing you to support her story, I give her the opportunity to see you in a less sinister light, and through you, myself. When she comes to understand that you can be relied on to help her, she will become more pliable. It is a matter of practicality.”

“How…”

“The matter is closed. You will do as you are ordered,” Irons said sharply, his malachite eyes flinty at even the hint of having his judgment questioned. Ian stepped back into the shadows, still agitated but unable to find the words to explain, and unwilling to risk further angering his master.

It took no more than a few minutes, but his disquiet communicated itself to Irons, disturbing his quiet meditation. “What is it that so concerns you?” he asked quietly, his soft voice startling Ian out of the endlessly cycling thoughts that he could not stop. With a deep breath, Ian tried to find the words for the disturbance that Sara was causing in his world. “Come, tell me,” Irons ordered, motioning Ian out of the shadows where he could study him. _He is much like his mother_ , he thought, startled as he always was when those strange reminders came to him. Ruthlessly he thrust the image back into the deep recess of memory, where he could ignore it as if it never happened. Sentimentality should never be allowed to interfere with the task at hand.

Ian felt his mind spinning. Everything that had happened since he left the house with Sara…Sara, it always came back to her. How could he explain? How much did he want Irons to know anyway? While he rarely, if ever, kept secrets from his master, at this moment he wanted to hold onto those moments alone with Sara. He took a deep breath and tried to form the right question in his mind. Ian was so full of memories of the evening. Time spent watching Sara was a particular pleasure, time in her actual company that did not involve standing in the shadows and making her angry with him was a dream come true. How could he share that without allowing his feelings to shine out like a beacon?

Little bits and pieces, fragments of the evening kept floating back to him. The Chinese food that she had insisted he stop and allow her to pick up at a little mom and pop place near her house, actually being invited into her apartment without breaking in. He had felt more comfortable this evening than he had with anyone in…well in a very long time. So rare that he actually spent time with anyone save his father and the security staff, and many of them were afraid of him, certainly almost all of the office staff was. Well, Immo, but that was hardly the same thing. Trying to put it all together, he allowed himself to skim through the evening, trying to best work out what he wished to share.

Deciding on a tame version of events, he mentioned the surveillance on her apartment and the fact that she was unwilling to allow him to attend to it in a decisive manner. He could feel them…eyes watching from a distance, waiting for their victim.

_“Sara…” Ian said, stopping her as she was starting to open the door to her apartment. “Wait.”_

_“What? Come on, the food is going to get cold and have you ever tried to nuke Chinese?” Ignoring for a moment everything about that sentence he did not understand, he shifted the bag she had handed him and put his hand on the door._

_“Sara, there is someone watching the apartment.”_

_“What? How do you know? You have some kind of super stalker sense?” she said sarcastically. “I didn’t see anyone, and I always look.” Sara turned towards him and looked up impatiently. “Fine, okay, someone watching the place, I get it, but what do you want to do? And don’t tell me go out and deal with them. That would absolutely cause problems.”_

_“I am sure that they are associated with those federal agents we met with today..”_

_“Great, now they are following me home. Can I reconsider that offer to deal with…” she started, but when he made to leave, she grabbed his arm, her touch like electricity through his thick coat. “Whoa, I was just kidding. You have got to learn when I am serious and not.” The implication that she would allow him to spend enough time in her presence to do so was both warming and disconcerting._

_“Perhaps there is a way…” he said, trying to work around a plan that would keep up appearances, while not offending her, or getting his face slapped._

_“All right, you lead, I’ll follow,” she said. “But if you get fresh I’ll knock you on your ass, surveillance or no surveillance.” Sara reached up and unlocked the door to her apartment and they entered. Ian slipped around her, and dropped the food off on the table while sweeping the room, trying to gauge where and how much could be seen. He reached out, and took Sara by the shoulders, careful to keep his broader frame between them and the windows, bending his head lower to hers. Realising what he was doing, Sara put her hands on his shoulders._

“ _I believe that they are in the building across the street,” he said, leaning close, hoping that from behind it would look as if he was doing what he dearly wished that he had the courage to attempt. “When I release you, please start the preparations and I will close the drapes and turn on the television, make it look as if we are settling in for the evening. If they are using a distance mic, the television should cover our voices.” Cursing himself for being unprepared, he made a note to purchase a white noise generator for her, soon._

_“Sounds like a plan.” He knew that at least part of her agreement was related to her need to consume the Chinese food before it cooled however, rather than any brilliant strategy of his own, not to mention her desire to frustrate her surveillance._

_After a dinner surprising for both its quality and the quantity the two of them managed to consume, Sara once again returned to the case, and the problem of the feds outside her window. “I hope you aren’t planning to sleep here tonight. I don’t want you to get any ideas, just because I…”_

_“I would never try to take advantage. I will leave shortly, in enough time to check the house before Mr. Irons returns. If they see anything, they will assume that I need to return to my duties.”_

_“Yeah, I guess I will be getting some kind of official notification about this case and Irons? Some kind of temporary reassignment while we try to solve the case and keep your boss alive?”_

_“I would hazard a guess that Mr. Irons has already expressed his desires to the commissioner.” Sara nodded with a grimace and returned to her contemplation of the plate before her. Sensing her conflicting feelings, Ian decided that it was time to make his exit before he did something to ruin what had been a pleasant evening together, something he had never really expected to have with her._

_“I should go then,” he told her, carrying some of the containers into the kitchen along with his plate and chopsticks. “It was a nice dinner, thank you.”_

_“Hey Ian, before you go….”she started, and he stopped and gave her an inquiring look. Sara reached out and took his gloved hand in hers and pulled him over near the window, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We should at least give them something to report,” she said, stretching up with a hand on his arm, and, leaning in close, placed a small kiss next to his mouth. So close that he could feel the heat of her body, smell her shampoo, and the feel of her lips on his skin was almost overwhelming. He thought he could almost hear the beating of her heart, so close was she. He was certainly aware of his own, pounding away like a trip hammer in his chest, as if it was trying to break out. He took a deep breath, inhaling her scent as if he could somehow hold it in his lungs, and keep it with him to fuel the dreams of long nights ahead. It took a moment before he realised that she was staring at him. Ian released her and made his way quickly to the door before he could further embarrass himself, and out into the cold of the hall, his coat over his shoulder._

“Sir, there is surveillance on her apartment.”

“So you spent the evening in Sara’s company playing at being her lover?” he asked with an indulgent smile at the boy. _He has not been prepared for this, he is deeply infatuated with her, yet does not wish to be disloyal. He wishes to mask what is happening from both of us._

“Sir, I did not…” Ian started, but his master waved away his protestations.

“You did your duty, as Sara requested, as I _required_ of you. You will continue to do so and I will give you the tools necessary to do so. Now, if there is nothing more significant…”

“No, there is nothing.”

“Good, leave me then.” Ian nodded to his master and turned toward the door before Irons called him back. “Oh, and Ian…get me a full security and background check on a new cellist for the Symphony. Her name is Linnea Swansberg, everything you can find out. That will be all.” Once again Ian turned, somehow heartened by the request. Perhaps this new interest would keep the two mainstays of his life away from one another’s throats.

 

The moment Sara walked in the office and saw the note on her desk; she knew that was going to be trouble. Even knowing what it was about and what was coming did not make it any better. She picked it up cautiously, not particularly wanting to see what it said. The message was short and to the point. _Pezzini, My office, ASAP_. Even unsigned she knew what it meant. With a sigh she grabbed her coffee and headed for her confrontation with Dante. For once, she wished that she had Nottingham with her, that would settle Dante right quick.  In fact, she gave a brief thought to calling him and inviting him.

Walking into the office, Sara was immediately on her guard. Captain Bruno Dante sat behind his desk, the look on his face kind of like what she had seen in shark movies, just before they attacked. _With a smile like that he should have been a lawyer_ , she thought sourly to herself, she returned his insincere smile with one of her own. “You wanted to see me, Captain?” she asked, trying not to choke on the last word. Joe Siri was her Captain, as far as she was concerned, always was, always would be. Dante, on the other hand, was a slime ball who had somehow screwed him into retirement, and one day she would figure out how he did it.

“Yeah, Pezzini,” he said, adding a ‘t’ to the center of her name with relish, just because he knew it got on her nerves when he mispronounced her name. “I have been instructed to reassign you. Until further notice you are on a special protection detail for Mr. Kenneth Irons.”

“But, sir,” she started, trying not to spit the word. “Why me? Why not give it to someone else, anyone else?”

“For some reason, despite the fact that you blew up a lot of very expensive art and junk in that little incident at the museum, he requested you specially. Or rather, the federal agents involved in this case asked for my cooperation in loaning you to them, at Mr. Irons’ request. In the spirit of fostering good will between different branches of law enforcement, I agreed.” Sara watched him talk, the insincere smile stuck to his face like a badly glued toupee and just as obvious.

“But I’m a homicide detective, not a babysitter,” Sara started, knowing if she just accepted it, he would be suspicious, and then she would have another unwanted nose in her business.

“First, you are going to be protecting a prominent citizen, hopefully preventing a homicide, call it proactive policing. Second,” he continued, talking right over her attempt to say anything. “Second, you still have the murder of that guard at Vorschlag that Irons’ already tagged you for, maybe you can solve that while you’re at it.” The sneer on his face told her that he did not believe what he was saying, but was enjoying putting her in a bad spot.

“Sir, I...”

“Pezzini, I am the Captain of this squad and this house, not you. I will tell you what your duties are. Now, I suggest you go out and do your job, cause if anything happens to Irons on your watch, I’ll have your badge.” The shark’s grin was back and this time she knew it was for real.

“Yes sir,” she said, through tightened lips and turned to leave.

“Hey, Pezzini, who knows, maybe if you try hard enough you can get really close to him, set yourself up and not have to spend your time working as a cop. Irons would be quite a catch, could open a whole new world of career possibilities.” His laughter followed her out the door as she left. It took every ounce of willpower she had and a hefty loan on all that she would ever have to walk away from him without turning around and giving him an attitude readjustment with her fists, not to mention the thought of giving him a permanent change in vocal pitch. She passed through the bullpen and out the front door of the station like an enormous black storm cloud. The rest of the denizens of the house knew her well enough to know when to stay back. The Pezzini temper was well known, and not something to be caught on the wrong side of.

Out of the station and down the block, Sara walked into the coffee shop around the corner. She ordered her usual and slipped into a corner booth before pulling out her cell phone and dialled what was becoming an all too familiar number.

“Hey Sara,” Ian Nottingham answered without her even saying a word.

“Hey Ian,” she responded by rote. _Damn, one of these days I’m going to manage to surprise at least one of them_. “Everything went as planned. Dante was a complete jerk about it, but there’s nothing unusual there. One of these days, that man…”

“Would you like me to arrange something?” he said. His tone was neutral and Sara was not sure if he was kidding or not, but opted for discretion.

“No…that’s okay.”

“As you wish,” Ian responded, berating himself. Once again it seemed he had managed to do something wrong, just by offering to help.

“No problem, but hold that thought, I might change my mind, okay? Now where are you? Do you want me to meet you at the office?”

“That will not be necessary,” he said as he stepped out of the shadow of the doorway and into the coffee shop. He approached the table slowly as if he was unsure what her reception would be. “I thought it would be best if I gave you a few moments alone.”

 _Yeah, that helped a lot_ , she thought sarcastically, although she said nothing. The little interlude with Dante had pissed her off more than she thought, and Ian doing his sudden appearing act was not helping to improve her mood. If she blew up and they were still under surveillance, things could get pretty ugly. _Besides, it’s not his fault, he doesn’t know what Dante said_ , she told herself. She was still fuming, not just from his suggestion, but because it brought back Irons’ proposition and that pissed her off. Hell, Irons just plain pissed her off, but she was not about to let anyone go around shooting innocent bystanders just to get him. If she was honest with herself, she would really not let anyone shoot Irons either. But it didn’t stop her from considering it though.

“Where is Irons?”

“He is in his office at the moment, with extra security. We should return there immediately.” The thought of having both his charges safely under his care gave him a warm, pleasant feeling.

“Yeah, well let me get some coffee before I have to deal with you boss. I definitely don’t have enough caffeine in my system to cope with him yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Mirage, glad you've joined us. It is kind of nice to get back to this, hope it's still worth the read.


	12. A new kind of trouble

By the time Sara finally made it back to her apartment, she was bone tired and irritated. Actually her little interlude with Ian in the coffee shop had been the best part of the day, a frightening admission of how bad it had been. Jake had started in on Ian the moment he had met them at Irons’ office and once he figured out that Ian was not responding, he had only gotten worse. By the middle of the day Sara found herself defending the man in black, by the end of the day she was ready to string Jake up by his thumbs herself and let Ian pummel him into unconsciousness, possibly with a little help. It was all so childish, brought on by stress and boredom. Ian had various tasks to perform for Irons and reran background checks on Vorschlag employees, all of them.

She and Jake had alternated finishing interviews with keeping a watch on the man and searching the fairly comprehensive files that Ian kept on possible security risks. No matter what anyone thought of him, Nottingham was extremely good at his job. Even Jake was impressed, though he would never admit it, and it seemed to only make the rookie worse. Finally, she'd gotten a brief moment of peace when the warrants for the rest of the security cameras in the immediate vicinity came in and she could send Jake out to view them. It was safer for everyone.

All in all she just wanted to sink into her bathtub and forget about the day, about Irons and Black Dragons and any other damn thing that smacked of government conspiracy bullshit. Instead she had an hour to shower and change before meeting Ian and his boss back at Vorschlag to accompany them to a dinner meeting. At the moment Jake was playing door guard and she really hoped that Ian was either staying away from him, or beating him unconscious. Right now, she really did not really care which. The rookie had only limited success with the other cameras, they now had a make and model on the potential vehicle, but that was all, the licence plates were obscured, and there were a lot of black vans in New York City. How much longer they could continue playing this stupid political game she had no idea. But hopefully it would not take too long. Irons could afford all the security on the planet and it was not like Nottingham really needed the help, but they had to act like they were doing something, shepherding him from home to work and back to home with their federal counterparts dogging their every step. Not that she did not understand Ian’s distrust of the feds, Sara just hoped it did not take too long for them to get what they wanted.

 

It was over in a moment, a bump, tugging, a sudden pain, and the brief sensation of falling as the ground came up to met her with an accompanying thud-snap sound was all that she could really get a handle on before it was over. Elisabeth sat on the ground for a moment trying to get her bearings and work her mind around the fact that she had just been mugged. A gentleman, older with blondish red hair, stopped and offered her a hand as she tried to take stock of exactly were she had lost control of the situation. It probably started with her own distraction as she had left work, the idea of going home for dinner and dealing with paperwork the only things on her mind after a particularly hectic day.

“Are you all right, Miss? Should I call someone?” the gentleman asked as she tried to regain her somewhat unsteady feet. It was a bit late and there were few people on the street at this time of night. She looked at the man cautiously, wondering with belated paranoia if he were in league with the mugger. She still had her purse, surprise, surprise, but her briefcase was gone, the shoulder strap hanging uselessly from her shoulder, empty. Elisabeth started to thank the man, to find some words to send him off, when a familiar large black limousine drew to a halt beside them and the door opened, releasing an even more familiar black figure.

“Miss Leighton, are you all right?” Mr. Nottingham asked as he moved quickly to them. The man who had helped her immediately nodded and faded off down the street, seemingly sensing that she was now in friendly hands or at least familiar ones.

“Yes, Mr. Nottingham, I am fine, I just...” she started as he reached out to guide her into the back of the car and the presence of the employer she had left so recently. “Sir...I,” she started as Ian more or less handed her into the seat next to him without even a word.

“Are you all right?  What happened?” Irons asked without preamble.

“Nothing, sir, I was walking to the subway and someone hit me and took my briefcase. It was nothing, really. I still have my purse and I will probably have some bruises tomorrow, but.....” she said, as pain in her head finally made its way through the shock.

“Let me look at that,” another voice said, from the seat facing them. Elisabeth belatedly registered the fourth occupant of the car, Detective Pezzini, who had been assigned to help provide protection to Mr. Irons recently, some sort of threat that had the entire office turned on its ear and involved the shooting of a security guard at the building. The female officer leaned over and turned her head to the side, taking a thorough look at the now forming bruise that seemed to be expanding on the side of her head. “Yeah, that’s going to leave a mark for a few days, and you are going to have one hell of a headache to go with it. I should call this in.”

“A moment, Sara,” Nottingham said softly. “Your briefcase was taken, you say, but not your purse?”

“Yes. I felt a bump and then a tug and then something hit me,” she said, trying to order the events as they happened. “Then I got shoved, and the strap broke.  All I saw was a man in dark clothes, running away, and that was when I realised that it was gone.”

“Perhaps someone was looking for something, something specific, this could just be another tactic...” Mr. Nottingham and the officer started to talk together, leaving her sitting beside her employer, who for some reason remained silent. She listened half heartedly, the pain in her head starting to take over everything else. Finally after a few moments, she spoke up.

“It is not a great loss, everything in it is replaceable, if you could just let me off...” she started to say, but Irons held up a hand to stop her.

“I am afraid at this exact moment it may be more important than you realise.” The authority in his voice was unmistakable. “With the current situation, it is possible that the target was not you, but the information you carry.”

“We will have to completely change your schedule, sir. Any functions that...”

“If that is what they were after,” Elisabeth broke in, hoping to get this entire embarrassing incident over and done with as quickly as possible. “Then they are out of luck.” The sudden silence in the car was deafening as all eyes turned to the diminutive assistant in shock. Even Irons looked a bit nonplussed.

“How so?” he asked, raising one eyebrow questioningly.

Elisabeth reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the small PDA that lived there. “Because all the scheduling and appointment information is in here.” She waved the small, familiar instrument in triumph. “I am so accustomed to having it on me that I never put it in my briefcase at all.” There was a moment of stunned silence.

“Then what was in your briefcase?” the detective asked.

“My laptop, which could be a problem, but you would have to ask the computer department. I hadn’t updated your schedule yet, sir, I was planning to sync them at home. Also there were some documents I was reviewing for the morning, but mostly it was the personnel files I didn't get time to go over today,” she said looking at Irons. “I intended to spend the evening trying to review the files for the new secretary you asked me to find for my office.” Irons nodded slightly, but the tight look on his face made it clear he was trying to hold back his amusement. Detective Pezzini did not even bother, and Mr. Nottingham even broke into a smile.

“Personnel files? They stole secretarial personnel files?” Detective Pezzini said as she gave up trying to contain her laughter. At first she had not seen the importance Ian attached to the mugging of Irons’ brisk and efficient little organisational shadow, but now the thought of whoever the cold-blooded bastards were that had been seemingly just a step away from them so far, opening a case full of innocuous personnel files was just too funny for words, if that was who it was. The city still had its share of lowlifes, but the timing was a little too coincidental. Besides, most muggers would go for the purse, not the laptop, cash being pretty much untraceable.

The newest twist in the attempt on Irons brought an end to the planned dinner meeting. Irons canceled and the limo whisked them all off, stopping only to deliver Miss Leighton to her door and Mr Nottingham insisting on seeing her inside with an admonition not to let anyone in, and that she would be provided with a car service until the situation was resolved. She had tried to argue with that, convinced that it was unnecessary, but Irons had easily over ruled the seemingly unflappable assistant and sent her off.

“Meanwhile, what are we going to do about her laptop? Just because she had not updated the schedule does not mean that there isn’t sensitive material in there. Unless you have some kind of weird tracer or something?” she asked hopefully. Ian gave her a wicked grin and pulled out the ever present PDA. _Geeze, does everyone have those damn things_? She thought to herself. _I am just way too behind the times_. “Okay, I give, what are you going to do with that?”

“All of the company computers are equipped with some non standard hardware not to mention specialised software. When they try to crack the password, a virus will be released which will wipe all of the data in a matter of seconds. If they are attempting to attach it to another computer in order to break the encryption, it will also infect that system and any others on the network.”

“Nice,” she said, reluctantly impressed. “Too bad there is nothing you can do to them personally.”

“Sara, are you feeling a bit…bloodthirsty?” Irons questioned, an amused half smile on his face.

“No, I just have a real problem with men who think they can go around doing whatever they want.” Ian ducked his head a little, pretending to focus on the small screen before him, but Sara saw the little sparkle of a grin.

“Do not worry, Sara, at the same time the virus is released, it will spark a small chip. Whoever is in front of the laptop will get a bit of a surprise.”

“Fatal?” she asked, suddenly not so sure she should even be listening to this kind of talk.

“No, merely painful and embarrassing,” he reassured her. “But if we are missing one of our watchdogs tomorrow, we will have half the answer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so a little more. Long day, so I hope you enjoy it.


	13. Sara's troubles

Their arrival at the Irons mansion was a much bigger production than before. As soon as the car stopped, Ian was hustling Irons into the house, as he called on Sara to follow him. She looked around and could just see a car pull up to the closed gates. Sara turned and started stalking towards the car, her anger burning inside her. She could feel the heat in her arm and it took a lot of effort to keep it calm. This whole situation was out of control, she was stuck dealing with Irons and Nottingham, her rookie partner was involved, even Irons’ assistant had been knocked down on the street just to get to him. That was enough and more than enough. She had every intention of going and taking it out on someone.

With a swift nod from his employer, Ian pressed Mr. Irons toward the driver, who continued to hurry him indoors. Ian turned to follow the angry Wielder in her headlong pursuit of someone to take her anger out on. He could feel the pulse of the ‘blade quicken, feeding her anger and frustration. As much as he agreed with her desire, indeed wanted to join her, or at least help her beat a small measure of satisfaction out of the waiting federal drones, he knew it would only lead to more problems.

“Sara, this is not…”

“Leave me alone, Nottingham,” she said, her voice full of warning. “I’m sick and tired of all of this cloak and dagger shit. I’m just going to see how they like a little straight forward street “conflict”. I’ve had enough of their bullshit.”

“Sara, please,” he pleaded softly, reaching out for her arm.

“Don’t…” She turned, and he could see the flash of red from her wrist. It was only a flash, but it was enough. Sara lowered her wrist and shook her head a little as if trying to clear it.

“Sara, it would do no good. We should go into the house. If you still need to take out your anger I will be more than happy to take you to the gym.”

“Volunteering as punching bag, Nottingham? I thought we were supposed to be figuring out our next move.”

“We should,” he said as she reluctantly allowed him to lead her back toward the house. Sara realised that she was still under scrutiny, so she relaxed herself visibly and moved closer to him. If she blew this, there would be even more questions. “However,” Ian said, drawing her attention back to him. “If I let you try to use me as a punching bag, perhaps the planning will go more easily.” Sara laughed a little, admitting to herself if not to him that he had a good point.

“I’m not sure beating on you will make up for beating on them…”

“You seem to have little trouble taking your anger out on me,” Ian said, whispered low, not expecting her to hear. Sara did, the words went through her like a shock. She gave him a sidelong glance under her lashes. Maybe it was time to rethink the way she treated the quiet shadow, maybe, maybe not.

Standing in the shadow of the entry, Kenneth Irons watched the interaction between the two of them and smiled. He could see and feel it all, Sara’s reluctance, Ian’s persuasion. If he had planned it, he realised that it could not have gone better. The two of them seemed to be working things out just fine. If Sara could learn to trust Ian, soon he would be in a position to shape the future, to mold the Wielder. Oh, she would always be intractable, difficult, but she would learn the advantages of the things he could teach her. With a contented smile, he turned into the darkened hallway. He had a phone call to make; the evening need not be a complete waste.

 

Ian led Sara into the house. Once through the doors, he took her around to a small entry, hidden in the paneling beneath the grand stair. Inside was a small staircase that led into one of the lower levels of the mansion. Sara followed, amazed again at the size of the place. The staircase was narrow, less grand and more utilitarian, still neat and clean, leading into the depths. When they reached the end, he took her down a long corridor, more functional and less decorative than the ones upstairs, but still nice, certainly a lot better than the halls in her building. At the end of the hall, through yet another a pair of double doors, Sara found herself looking around in shock. The room was a huge open space, bigger than the cramped basement boxing gym where she spent most evenings. One corner was devoted to weapons:  swords, daggers, other implements that Sara didn’t even recognise. Another held free weights, well used and clean, all laid out in a neat array. One wall on the side had mirrors and some kind of white roll of carpet centred along it that she did not recognise, and there were a few benches here and there, and another door that led out the far side.

“Nice,” she said, studying the layout. Organised and clean, it still managed to keep that faint Eau de Sweat and old gym socks air that pervaded every gym she had ever been in. “But if you think I am just going to strip down right here…”

“Through the door are changing rooms.  The security staff uses this room as well and we do have a few women.”

“Oh? I figured your boss would object. He doesn’t seem like the type to want a woman watching his back unless she wanted to jump his bones.” She gave him a sour smile as she headed for the door. Ian followed a little slowly, shaking his head.

 

It took a few minutes, but when Sara emerged, she was comfortable in shorts and a tank top she had found on a shelf with a bunch of others. _Good thing I wore my Nikes_ , she thought, _pity I didn’t think about a sports bra, but then who carries around a sports bra in their purse? I wasn’t exactly planning on getting my evening workout with tall, dark, and deadly_. It bothered her a little, the thought of sparring with him, although she knew she certainly couldn’t hurt him, still the thought of getting all sweaty with him made her a little nervous. Her stomach was doing a little flip flop, and she wondered if it was her or the Witchblade that was making her so twitchy. _Yeah, has nothing to do with working out against hyper trained, freaky, ex-special forces, psycho, handsome guy, that would make too much sense_ , she thought to herself as she dragged her feet reluctantly to the place where Ian stretched out in the corner, heavy black coat and sweater changed for loose black pants and a black tank. It actually took her a moment to even register that at least her subconscious thought he was handsome. Then she decided it was probably best to ignore it.

For the first time since she had met him, he was not wearing gloves, having exchanged them for protective wraps that covered his forearms from the hands almost to the elbows. _Pretty hardcore_ , she thought, _wonder what he is expecting me to do, besides try to give him that long overdue ass kicking I owe him_. It occurred to her that she was probably being a little unfair to him, since he had stopped her from letting her temper get away from her, kind of like Danny used to do, and then volunteered to let her abuse him, as an alternative way to take out her frustration, also like Danny. The comparison did not make it easier, though, if anything it made her angry. She had not let Jake take Danny’s place, no matter how hard he tried, she certainly was not going to let this freak take his place.

Sara strode forward purposefully, trying to keep focused on taking the last several months of frustration out on Nottingham’s admittedly willing body.

 

Nottingham could feel her as she entered the room. He knew that she was frustrated; he could feel it coming off of her in waves, like heat off asphalt on an August day. Still he waited for her to join him, continuing his stretches as she walked across the room to join him. Suddenly Ian was wondering about the advisability of this course of action. Certainly he had been ordered to do what was necessary to convince Sara to trust them. But he feared becoming distracted by her. He had sparred with women before, other members of the security team and the like, but none of them were Sara, and none of them made him feel that combination of desire and icy fear.

 

_“But Sir, to pretend to be her…” he paused, searching for the right words but failing. “I would have to become close to her, to appear to be on more intimate terms than…”_

_“It may come to that, yes. A sacrifice may be required, a piece of your armour given up in order to complete your task.” Irons' voice was distant, as if they were discussing nothing important._

_“I will do it and gladly, if that is what you require, but...” he said earnestly, trying to calm his suddenly racing heart as he stepped forward into the firelight. Ian’s mind was awhirl; near giddy with what was being asked of him. After so long apart, protected from emotional contact, physically, mentally, now he was being asked to give it all up at a moment's notice or at least to pretend to, for long enough to get Sara to trust him, perhaps even longer. It was a task he'd certainly never expected to be asked to perform. He was not certain he would be able to do it, or once he did, if he could return to his life as before._

_“No doubt you will,” Irons said, his voice pregnant with some strong emotion held beneath the surface. He looked up from beneath lowered lids towards Irons pacing before the fire. Irons waved him away without another word, his eyes fixed on something that Ian could not see._

 

“Hey Nottingham,” she called out, shaking him from his reverie.

“Hey Sara,” he answered, rising from a deep stretch to his feet in one graceful, cat like motion. Sara tried to keep the sudden catch out of her breath. _Whatever else, Nottingham is a beautiful man_ , she thought before slamming that idea back into a box. _Think I need to get out more, this is Nottingham. I'm definitely losing it_. “Perhaps you would like to warm up some first? I know that you are impatient to release your frustrations on me.”

“Oh, this is an opportunity I’ve been waiting for. Give me a couple minutes and I’ll be ready.”

“As you wish, I will be glad to give you whatever time you need,” he said as he moved back to give her room. He tried not to think of Sara, of touching her, of being close to her. Instead he turned his mind to the results of his little “gift” on the unwary soul who had stolen Miss Leighton’s case. There was a bit of a glint in Ian’s eye as he thought about whether or not there would be fewer agents in their little entourage tomorrow. The new assistant was working out better than he could have imagined. She managed to be calm, despite everything that had happened since her short move to the top floor, and she managed his master easily without him even being aware. It was a very special skill set.

“Hey Nottingham,” Sara said, her stretch finished. “Are you ready for the ass kicking you so richly deserve?” her voice was light but there was determination in the set of her face. At the amusement in his expression, she stopped and felt the anger that started to drain while she was stretching begin to build again. _What is it about him that he just has to breathe to piss me off?_ “What’s so funny?  Don’t think I can do it?”

“No, Sara, I believe that you will try,” he said, smiling even broader. “But actually I was contemplating this evening and if we shall have different watchdogs tomorrow.”

“Yeah, you said that.  What did you do, booby trap her laptop?” she asked incredulously. “Or do you just routinely booby trap them? Are you always that paranoid?” Ian gave her a look.

“Paranoid? Not really. I set a few…precautions. They are more aimed at industrial espionage and purse snatchers than this kind of attack.”

“What else did you do to it, besides the virus stuff?” she enunciated slowly, keeping her temper in check. For some reason, even when he had not done anything in particular, he still managed to irritate her. Sara’s patience was at an end and she was starting to wonder exactly what he had gotten her involved in. Ian ducked his head, his smile fading a little.

“It is nothing…lethal. A failed attempt to access the computer or to bypass its security causes it to self destruct after the virus is released. It also releases a spray of formic acid."

“Formic acid?” Sara asked, trying to place where she had heard the word before. “Bugs or something, right?” Vague, half remembered impressions from school filtered into her head.

“Ants, yes. It is not fatal,” he reassured her before she could get angry again. “The solution is very mild; it will give the person about the equivalent of sunburn, but mildly painful and embarrassing.” The thought of Tweedledee and Tweedledum walking around with red splotchy faces was almost too much for her. Even better, that jackass Rowland. She couldn’t help it, all of a sudden she was laughing out loud, the images in her mind too much to resist. Ian joined her; pleased that for once they were in agreement.

 

It took a few minutes, a little mild embarrassment as they regained an awareness of the world around them. Laughing together, the detective and the assassin, it was not exactly familiar territory to either of them. Ian looked around surreptitiously, as if wondering who had seen him relax his guard with the woman who was everything to him. Sara merely wiped the smile off her face to be replaced with her best 'I’m going to kick your ass for you and enjoy every minute of it' look. In spite of the brief bit of camaraderie or perhaps because of it, she was anxious to get things back onto familiar footing. She understood being antagonistic towards Nottingham, even in the odd moments when they understood each other, but anything else was treading on dangerous ground and she did not want to go there, not now, probably not ever.

Ian nodded and stepped back, allowing her to set the pace, knowing that he could match her regardless as long as the Witchblade decided to remain out of play, and he was not particularly worried about that. “Would you prefer to attack or defend?” he asked, fairly certain what she would choose. Sara looked a little distracted by the question, as if she had never thought about the practicality of sparring with Nottingham. She was considering carefully as they each settled into their favourite stance.

“Attack,” she said defiantly. Nottingham nodded at her and the two of them began circling slowly, eyes alert for any small sign of weakness. “After all, I promised you an ass kicking. Don’t worry; I won’t do more than bruise your ego.” Sara was talking tough but the look on her face said she was joking.

“Then I will try not to hurt you as well.”

“In your dreams, Nottingham.” Sara took that moment to strike out, but Ian just moved out of the way with a smile and a gentle shake of his head. They circled each other again as Ian thought about what she had said. In his wildest dreams he had never imagined sparring with Sara, enjoying the graceful moves as she looked for her opening. Suddenly she struck out, and this time he let her connect, landing a punch to the stomach that should have doubled him over. Instead he grabbed her wrist, spinning her around. Suddenly it was a whole new fight, as Sara struggled to free herself and get a little of her own back. She ducked under a circle kick trying to bring him to the ground.

 _He is really good_ , she thought. Circle, punch, block. Sara brought a knee up as he closed in, but Ian avoided it with ease. She also knew that he was not going as hard or as fast as he was capable of. “Don’t hold back on me, Dragon-boy. Show me what you can really do,” she said as she backed away again, breathing just a little harder than she was before. She could feel the tension pouring out with the sweat, leaving her feeling warm, loose, and much calmer. Now all she had to do was to defeat him.

“Perhaps you would like to call this a draw?” Ian suggested as he easily avoided her stompkick to the in step and twisted around out of reach with little or no effort.

“When hell freezes over,” she answered him tightly and she attacked him full on. Ian took the force of the blow, going over with her on top of him. Sara flipped off, coming up in a fighting crouch, looking for her next opening. “That was a good one, care to teach it to me?”

“Whenever you wish Sara, although you are doing quite well on your own,” Ian said as he avoided another punch.

“Thanks a lot,” she said sarcastically.

“You are more than welcome. It is a pleasure to spar with someone who has your raw talent. Perhaps as you become one with the ‘blade…”

“I don’t need this overgrown magical ice pick to kick your ass.” Ian could tell that he had made a tactical error. He could feel the renewed anger that fuelled her next attack. She was fast, and she very nearly caught him off guard as he blocked a punch to the jaw just barely, but was unable to avoid the leg hook which brought him to the mats again.

 _Thinks that I need some kind of magical mumbo jumbo, I can be just as good without any help_. The thoughts surged through her head as she tried her utmost to beat Ian into a messy pulp. All the stress, all the frustration that had come into her life since she had gained the Witchblade seemed to take this one moment to surface and seek release. _If I had been better, faster, I could have done more. I could have saved them_. The thoughts were boiling up into a rage inside her and she could not seem to stop it. _How much better did I need to be, how much faster_? Whirling and churning inside until all she could see was red, all she could feel was anger at the universe, at herself, at Nottingham.

Sara drew back. This was no longer a simple sparring match. Tears were starting to well up in her eyes and she was breathing heavily. She knew there was no way she could beat him, but something inside her still wanted to keep fighting until she could no longer lift her arms.

“Sara, what has…” Ian started, lowering his guard.

“It’s you, it’s all about _you_. You are this kick ass fighter, ex-special forces, scary assassin guy. Why couldn’t you help me? Why didn't you? Between the two of us, with the Witchblade…” She struck, the sound of the blow extraordinarily loud in the suddenly quiet room. They both stopped dead, staring at each other, accusations hanging thick in the air between them.

“What are you asking of me, Sara?” he asked quietly as he tried to calm the rapid beating of his heart. Ian knew things were taking a path that he never wanted to go down.

“Why didn’t you help me? You let my partner die!”

“I would have gladly done anything to save him, including laying down my life, but I could not.”

“Why not? If you hadn’t knocked Jake out… I assume that you are the one that did that? And with your help…”

“Then both you and Jake would be dead as well as Detective Woo. There was no other way, and while you may blame me if you truly wish to, it will not bring him back to life.” Ian tried to turn away. He could see the pain in her eyes, feel the anger coming off her, but there was no answer or at least not the one she wanted, and he was tired, tired of having all his efforts thrown back at him, tired of her derision, tired of the way that just when he thought she understood and accepted him, she turned on him.

“He’s right, Sara, you know it,” Danny said. Sara’s head snapped up at the ghostly figure as Nottingham went from at rest to alert and back to rest in the blink of an eye, having correctly identified the feeling as an other worldly visitor, and not one that he could truly battle at any rate. He moved to the bench to give them at least the illusion of privacy and sat to observe.

“Great advice, Casper, but it doesn’t change the facts…”

“Okay, then let’s talk facts…Fact one, you feel guilty because you feel like you got me into a situation that got me killed…Bullshit, I walked in on my own two feet, no one grabbed me and dragged me, at least not _into_ the Rialto. Fact two, you are taking it out on Nottingham because you can, because he will let you, and because it gives you another person to beat up about it besides yourself, or maybe in addition to, you were never one to scrimp on that kind of thing.”

“I don’t try to…”

“Sara, this is your partner, remember me?  You were still beating yourself up for Maria, now for me. It’s not getting you anywhere, and keeping Nottingham at a distance, just so that you can absolve yourself of responsibility if he gets hurt, isn’t either. He is going to help you, that is his destiny, his bloodline, just as yours is to Wield the Witchblade, get used to it.”

“Thanks a lot.  You act like I inherited him, like my pop’s old watch, not a lot of use for it, but too important to give away.”

“Thank you, Sara. I am glad that you see me as such a useful burden,” Ian said sarcastically as he started to stand. “I will leave you then, so as not to be a bother.”

“Ian, that was not what I…” she started.

“Congratulations partner, you are batting two for two today,” Danny said, turning to leave as well.

“Danny, Ian… I…”

“Yes,” they both answered her, a strange surreal stereo response.

“Look, Ian.  I am not good at this, maybe my partner is right, maybe I have been beating up on you because of him, or maybe because I want to beat up on myself and haven’t figured out a good way of doing it.”

“You seem to be doing quite a good job to me,” he said as he turned back to the door.

“Ian, I…” But it was too late. He left the room as quickly and as quietly as a breeze without even a backwards glance.

“Now you have really screwed up,” Danny said. “Did you think he would just take it from you forever?”

“Yes, no... I guess I just didn’t...”

“You didn’t think. You just felt the need to lash out at someone and I am not there for you to hit, so you lashed out at him, knowing he will take it from you, and keep taking it. You need him, and the sooner you really accept, that the safer you’ll be.”

“Danny, you should understand…I, well…”

“Sara, you need to go find Nottingham and apologise. You need him now. He is the one person that you can truly trust.” Danny looked at her and she knew that as usual, he was right.

“I miss you,” Sara whispered, reaching out as if she could touch him.

“I know,” he said softly. “Now go find Nottingham. If anyone can watch your back like me, he can.”

“All right, if you’re so smart, tell me how I am supposed to find him in this place?”

“Use the Witchblade, it will help.”

“Thanks a lot.  With my luck it will give me some vision I don’t understand and will only make sense once I find him.”

“Remember, belief has the power to do amazing things.”

“Yeah, like get me lost in the bathroom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a little more of this story, and wow, I forgot how long it was. Thank you for the comments.


	14. The solution to some trouble

Kenneth Irons leaned back in his chair and contemplated the evening ahead. It was a pity about the attack on Miss Leighton, though she was very good and managed to remain calm. If they had hurt her, he might have given serious thought to allowing Ian to do them an injury in his name, in fact he still might. But at least the night would not be a total loss. The little cellist cum spy would make an interesting diversion while Ian and Sara worked out their differences. The question was, how far would she be willing to go to get what her superiors wanted, and how much could he glean from her in the process. At the very least his musical Mata Hari would liven up an otherwise dull evening, and allow Sara and Ian time to sort themselves out. Ian was trying, very hard in fact, to keep him out, but between the virtually blank wall the boy was putting out, and Sara, whose emotions practically shouted through the air, he had a good idea that settling their differences would bring them closer together. He wished he could do something to help Ian, who was out of his depth, but, regardless of what he would like, he had to leave them to it. His interference would not improve matters.

 

Ian left the gym without even a backward glance. He knew that what he was doing was not particularly fair to Sara, and that should Irons find out, he would be furious, but right now he needed to get away for just a little bit. Sara meant her apology, or at least her attempt, but still he needed to be somewhere else. He was paying little or no attention to where he was going, as he negotiated the familiar corridors of the mansion, seeking somewhere that he could be comfortable and more importantly, alone.

 

Sara opened the door and peered into the hall as if she expected at any moment to find herself under fire. _What is it about this place that gives me the creeps so bad_ , she thought as she moved down the empty corridor. She tried for cool confidence but managed to look more like a cat on hot asphalt. The Witchblade gave off little pulses of warmth, leading her, she hoped, toward Ian. _Why am I doing this?_ she asked herself again as she turned down yet another unfamiliar corridor.

_Because you are the one that screwed it up?_

_Okay, Okay, so I was not as good as I could be with Nottingham, but he has not exactly been forthcoming with me either._

_Have you given him a chance? All you have done, really, is give him one hard time after another since day one. All you have done is scream at him every time he says something, and take out the fact that Danny is not standing beside you on him because you can’t bring yourself to eat your gun_. The sharp voice reminded Sara again how much she had been running on adrenaline and anger for months without any real end in sight. _And you still have not figured out what to say to him when you find him_.

Sara stopped at the top of the stairs and followed the Witchblade to the large wooden doorway. Suddenly the hallway looked familiar, she was certain she had been here before. She saw paintings lining the walls, but then most of the house had those. Sara looked up at the large door, the heavy dark wood and carved frame. Suddenly it seemed as if the walls around her were talking, whispering in her ears secrets from deep in the past and forward into the future. Now she knew where she was, how she knew this place. The hall ahead of her was where Irons had first told her about the Witchblade, she could just see the paintings, past wielders standing with the bracelet proudly on their arms. Suddenly going through the door and facing Ian seemed a much better option, more real, more grounded in this world, safer. Anything was better than standing in the hall listening to the eerie whispers.

 

 _Sara, Sara_ , Ian thought as he paced the heavily panelled room. The effort involved in splitting his attention between his own emotional turmoil and keeping the blocks up between himself and Irons was intense and exhausting. This was between Sara and him, and besides, his Master would be furious at him for allowing the situation to deteriorate to its present level. He could almost hear the voice chiding him for pushing away this opportunity. More than anything else Ian wished that he could go back, back to that moment when they had been together, mentally, physically, that all too brief time when they had truly connected.

 _What was I thinking… what was he thinking? Putting me in this situation_.. For a moment it had all been easy, purity of form and motion. He had forgotten everything…Irons, his duty, everything but the feel of her moving against him. At the time he had been too lost in the moment, now he began to see just a little of what it was that drew the man from one lover to another.

 _But this is not for you_ , he told himself. _You are supposed to be above this sort of emotionalism_ , the voice of his father whispered in his ear.

 _I am not, no matter how hard I try_ , he whispered back silently in the depths of his mind. He could feel Sara now, moving through the house towards him, and for a moment he lost track of all the threads he was trying to hold together. _Has she finally learned, has she finally acknowledged the bond between us? Is this truly her or just her dearly dead partner, or is this just another moment of acceptance, to be followed by anger and the rough edge of her temper when she realises that the walls are coming down_?

 _What if it is not? Could this be the first step? What if this charade becomes real?_ A new and seductive voice whispered in his ear, the voice that spoke in his dreams and spoke of things best ignored.

_What will I do if I succeed? My father said that a sacrifice might have to be made, can I make it? Is this where my duty leads me?_

_Duty, how long has it been since she was merely a duty?_ The mocking voice questioned, _if she ever was simply that to you_.

Ian ignored it, trying to keep his thoughts under strict control, but it was a losing battle. _If you win acceptance from her now, can you truly give her up in the end?_ Better not to even think of such things. Ian began pacing the rug again. But the voice continued to whisper to him, if the chance came, if the choice came, could he really turn away from it? And once he let those barriers down could he ever go back to the way things were?

He came to rest before a small painting of Joan of Arc on an easel before a case of artefacts. Of all the former wielders she was the one he felt the closest to, the one who was the most familiar, as if there was some unfinished business between them. When he was younger, he would sometimes come here and talk to her, and it almost felt as if she was listening. Slowly he lowered himself to the floor before the painting, settling onto the bare wood beneath it, reaching out to try to focus on what he would say to Sara when she found him and escape the thoughts that would not stop spinning in his head.

Sara knocked softly on the heavy door, opening it almost immediately in her hurry to be out of the hall and away from the strange whispers. _If this was what comes from opening myself up to this thing_ , she thought, _then I can do without it, thanks all the same_. The whispers faded as she shut the door behind her, almost as if someone had turned off a radio in her head. “Nottingham? Ian?” she whispered as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the dimly lit room she now found herself in. A dark shape rose up from her left, and she started for a second before she registered the black clad shape of her quarry.

“Sara,” Ian began as he moved towards her. So lost had he become in his own thoughts that he had not realised she was getting so close, much less heard her knock. He barely had time to rise before she was inside. Startled and needing something to say, he began with the first words that came to mind. “I am sorry that I walked out on you, I…”

“Nottingham, knock it off,” she replied, more sharply than she meant. Immediately he ducked his head. _Probably afraid to face you, in case you decide to blow up at him again_. “I am the one that should be apologising to you, and I even bungled that.”

“It is not necessary to apologise to me, Sara.”

“Stop right there!  It is, and yes I do, now let me get on with it. I suck at apologies. So, I am going to say this and I am going to say it now. Danny is right. I have been a real bitch to you. I…” She was looking around the room now, taking in the contents. Books and artefacts lined the walls and stood around in cases. Unlike the other rooms in the house, it was not heavy on the furniture, just a desk and chair to one side, like a cross between a museum and an office. There were a few paintings here and there and it was to one of those that her eyes were suddenly drawn. Looking down from the wall was a portrait of a woman in a beautiful green gown. She was turned away from a piano, as if the artist had called her name while she was playing and she had turned to answer, one hand still resting on the keys, the other resting in her lap with the Witchblade peacefully upon it. It was not the presence of the annoyingly persistent piece of jewellery that bugged her; it was that the woman had her face. 

Ian watched Sara as she tried to formulate a question that did not want to come. It must be hard for her, trying to come to grips with it all. For him this room was a comfortable place (in the days before Sara wore the Witchblade, it had resided in a place of honour here, in a case close to Mr. Irons’ desk). He had spent long hours in this room, listening to stories, reading, until each of the characters was as clear to him as a friend. He knew how the Bishop Cauchon had taken the Witchblade from Jeanne and banished it to the catacombs beneath the cathedral, from there to be taken to the Vatican where it had lived quietly, only let out when they felt the need, and only then under carefully controlled circumstances. He had learned the list of wielders, their dates and their stories, until he could recite them every bit as clearly as a school child could recite the Presidents of the United States, but all this was new to Sara and she was still learning to accept the duty that he had been born into.

“Who is she?” she asked, whatever she had been going to say forgotten, for which he was profoundly grateful. Her apologising to him, it disturbed his sense of propriety, it wasn't right.

“Elizabeth Bronte, she was…”

“The last wielder of the Witchblade, yeah, I know that. But who is she to _me_?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, trying to think of something to say. He was not sure what he could or should say to her, and if he had been thinking clearly, would have never put her in this position.

“I found out recently that I was adopted. I just want to know if she was some kind of relative.”

“Perhaps you should ask Mr. Irons about that. He would know…”

“No, forget it. It’s not that important, it’s just…”

“Sara…” There was just a hint of disappointment in his tone as he looked at her with those chocolate deep eyes.

“It isn’t what you think.  No, really. I just…I’m not sure I’m ready to know, okay? Sometimes knowing the answers is not as helpful as you think it is.”

“Perhaps it is not the answers, but the questions that are at fault?” he said, cocking his head to the side. Sara just rolled her eyes at him.

“Perhaps it’s time we find out what your boss is up to and then work out tomorrow’s schedule,” she said, but her voice was not as sharp as it had been. Ian nodded and led the way out. It seemed that at least for the moment some kind of peace had been reached. The rest could wait, at least until after he had fortified her with food and coffee.


	15. The Trouble with Irons

Dinner turned out to be a more or less amiable meal. After her earlier, outburst Sara was making an active effort not to be a bitch to him. In the process she found that it was not all that hard. They returned to the little room where they had been before and Ian had disappeared to the kitchen for a moment, only to reappear shortly to tell her that dinner would be ready momentarily. The food was fabulous and there seemed to be enough of it to feed at least four people. As she watched Ian eat she revised her opinion, obviously ‘Cook’ knew exactly how much to feed him.

Most of the time they spent discussing the attempted mugging of Irons’ assistant, arguing back and forth over the different people who could have had the motive and desire to attack the woman. “You know, it could have just been a random mugging,” Sara said, taking another bite out of some decadent chocolate and cherry concoction that had been brought in just as they had finished the fabulous dinner. “Not everything has to be connected.”

“But Sara, everything _is_ connected, and if it is not, it is still not a good idea to ignore the potential danger.”

“I am not saying that we should ignore it, I am saying that we should factor that into this...whatever the hell this is. Oh, my God is this good,” she said, taking another bite, unable to restrain herself from an outburst. Ian smiled in delight at her joy. Cook had done better than he could have imagined if he planned it that way, but then somehow, she always knew.

“I could arrange to have some packaged for you to take with you…”

“No way, I’m never going to work this all off, if I spend all day tomorrow in the gym. If I ate like this all the time I would be as big as a house. You wouldn’t want to be responsible for my not passing weight regs would you?” Her voice was teasing and Ian searched for some kind of response to that.

“You would never allow such a thing, but I suppose I should avoid putting temptation in your way,” he said with a little smile that held more warmth than she was prepared for.

“Yeah, ah, sure,” she sputtered for a moment, not knowing how to respond to what he said. “Shouldn’t we be keeping an eye on your boss? I mean he hasn’t called for you or annoyed me in a couple of hours, what gives?” Ian looked a little surprised, he had almost forgotten about everything while he was spending time with Sara.

“I do not believe that Mr. Irons requires our attention at the moment, Sara.” It was actually rather embarrassing, knowing that after making some rather outrageous comments about his attraction to Sara, that at this moment Irons was entertaining not only the newest in a long line of potential conquests, but a spy at that. Of course, while she was trying to play him, Ian knew that Irons was playing her and, in all probability, enjoying it. Ian wondered when or if he should tell Sara about her. He reached out but could feel that his master was not engaged in anything untoward, so he felt safe taking her on a quick recon so they could both get visual confirmation of Irons' safety. _Mystical connections are all well and good_ , he thought, _but should always be reinforced with basic cautions_.

He had led Sara out of the dining room, up two flights of stairs, and through a door, when they heard the music. He pressed his finger to his lips in the universal sign for silence and moved soundlessly into the library, closing the door behind Sara as she followed him toward the rail looking down upon the main “living room” of the mansion.

The music was much louder and laughter drifted up as they moved toward Ian’s favourite viewing post.

 

“Mozart is good, but sometimes the music is a bit frivolous."  A woman’s voice over the sound of the piano. “How about opera?”

“I prefer the Italians, Verdi, Puccini…” Irons’ voice reached them as well and the two of them looked down to find him seated at the piano, playing something that Sara thought sounded faintly familiar, with lots of trills and flourishes. She felt like she should be surprised that Irons played, but she wasn’t, only that he was so very good at it. _Come to it, that shouldn’t surprise me either_ , she thought. _He wouldn’t do something in front of anyone unless he has mastered it_. Suddenly he changed, the new piece was much different, heavier. She could just see his guest, sitting in one of the smaller chairs drawn near the piano. The woman was blonde and quite pretty, in a tall, probably Scandinavian heritage sort of way.

“Oh, I am surprised.”

“I lost my taste for Wagner some years ago. Have you ever noticed how many madmen he attracted to his work? King Ludwig was obsessed with him, not to mention Hitler and his followers. Perhaps it is the epic scale, but I find it a bit vulgar.” The woman laughed and got up from the chair, a crystal wine glass still in her hand as she joined him on the piano bench.

“You take your music far too seriously, you should have fun with it. What about modern music? Surely you are not completely lost in the past,” she said as she leaned closer to him. Even from the floor above it was obvious that she was flirting with him.

“I am familiar with some modern music, my dear Linnea, although I do not listen to it often. But as you are aware, some events you cannot avoid attending, and it is not always the Met Museum and Mozart with the Philharmonic, sometimes it is a benefit for Health Awareness and The Who,” he said, changing tunes again, this time surprising his audience both seen and unseen as he played the first few lines of “Behind Blue Eyes”.

“Where do you learn that?” Her shock and pleasure showed in her clear blue eyes.

 _Those have got to be contacts_ , Sara thought cattily. It was not that it mattered what Irons did or with whom, but sometimes she really wished that she were a bit taller, more conventionally pretty. Oh, she did all right, but this chick was too much.

“I have always been good at improvisation, and I shared a podium with Roger Daltrey and the rest of the band at a fundraiser a year or so back. They performed, and that particular song stuck with me. The rest was not particularly to my taste. I do not care for screeching guitars.”

Sara started as Ian touched her arm gently, motioning her away from the little scene below. Without a backward glance Sara followed him out of the room. The last thing she wanted to spend the rest of her evening doing was watching Irons exert his obviously welcome attentions on the blonde below.

She followed Ian silently, lost in thought. What was it about Irons and his “friend” that made her so seriously uncomfortable? It was not as if she wanted him herself.  If anything he usually made her feel ill at ease, like she had to watch everything she said. _I’m just feeling the need for a little company of my own, too bad I had to let that Irish singer go. It’s not fair, but with this case, I just don’t have the time. Maybe when it's all over_. She'd left the man a message when she went home, told him she was busy on a case, and would call him when she was done. It sounded pretty lame, even to her. What she did _not_ say was that hearing the rest of the story, even from Irons, especially from Irons, had made her a little cautious of the man’s Irish charm. _One thing about Irons, he can tell a story_. Sara just kept following, trying to clear her head. She felt the tingling that usually began the visions. There was music…Sara cut it off like a faucet. Right now the last thing she needed was some weird vision, especially since she suspected it involved Irons and she really, really didn’t want to know.

Suddenly she stopped short, slamming into Ian as he turned to ask her something. It was then that she realised that she hadn’t been paying any attention for the last few minutes. “Sara, are you all right?” Ian asked, looking at her with concern as he held her arm.

“Yeah, fine,” she said, wrenching herself away from his grip a little harder than was probably necessary. “Where are we going? You know I would like to get home some time.”

Ian considered quickly. He was under orders to try everything he could to convince Sara to stay the night, but her present frame of mind did not seem conducive to the suggestion. What he needed was something that interested her, something to engage her mind. “I thought a tour of the grounds? The dogs know to leave you alone, perhaps you could lend me your experience?”

“Yeah, right, like I can figure out something that Mr. hypersmart super soldier hasn’t thought of.”

“You underestimate yourself, Sara. Besides, different experiences lend a different perspective.”

“True. Besides, the weather is good enough and it won’t hurt for the watchdogs to see you and me taking a romantic walk, right?” Sara gave him a sarcastic little smile.

“As you say.” Ian left it at that, having no idea what he had done for her to cooperate so easily. All he knew was that things were going well, and he would not do anything to ruin it.

 

“Perhaps you would care to stay the night, hmmm?” Kenneth asked as he leaned a little closer to the little blond spy. She was lovely, and seemed more than willing to go as far as necessary.

“Well, I am a bit tired, and the city is a long ride…”

“Not too tired, I trust?” he smiled back at her. “I have more than enough space, perhaps we should get you settled, and then… a nightcap?”

“That could be interesting.” Linnea smiled at him. This would be easy, much easier than he imagined, and more pleasurable.

 

The night air was cool and the grounds were awash with shadows. The two of them walked along, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Sara did not know what was going on, this kind of introspection was not really her thing. Most of her life she had spent running from one place and one situation to the next, no stopping, no analysing. It made her a good cop, sometimes. It also made her reckless. She had been thinking a lot more recently, since she got the Witchblade, since Danny died. Life should be worth living, and she wasn’t sure she was living life, more like having a little fun, and running before anything could get close enough to hurt her.

She looked at Nottingham, who seemed to be studying her.  He was always studying her. Most of the time it was irritating, but somehow at this exact moment, it was kind of nice to know that with Danny gone, there was someone else who was watching her back. _I must be tired; I know that I would not be thinking this way if I was my normal self_.

_You’ve never been normal. You call him a freak, but you know that is the way you see yourself as well._

_But that is different; I mean I’m supposed to be one of the good guys, right?_

_Are you_?

Ian watched Sara as they walked along. He could feel the whirlwind of confused and conflicting feelings spinning around in the back of his head. He wished that he could find a way to make her feel better, to ease the pain that he could feel like a lump in his throat. But he knew nothing about it, had no clue. Irons had taught him many things, but except for his recent crash course in playing the lover, he had left him uniquely unprepared for this. Besides, Sara and he were more alike than he had ever dreamed. Both of them kept their feelings close, hidden from the world. Two people with such different backgrounds and yet sometimes the similarities were startling. He tried to think of something that would bring her out of herself. _What do I do when I get lost? One answer, work_.

“What do you think of the set up so far?” he asked, breaking the silence, his voice so quiet that she could barely hear him over the wind and the rustle of the leaves.

“Uh, nice, real nice. Where are the dogs?” It took her a moment to bring her thoughts back to the present and the situation. She shivered a little, realising just how cold it had gotten. Sara kind of wished that she had worn her big coat rather than the leather jacket.

“Are you cold, would you prefer to go back to the house?” Ian asked, concerned.

“It’s a little chilly, but let’s keep going, okay?”

“Very well. The dogs have their own areas, we should be coming upon them in about…” he checked his watch. “Two and a half minutes.” He pointed towards the outer fence, now becoming visible in the shadows. Sara shivered again as the breeze picked up.

“Sara, may I?” Ian asked, holding out his arm to her. Startled, but realising that he was offering more than just warmth, but a chance to make their story look better as they moved into sight of the front gate. Rather than take the proffered arm though, Sara settled herself beneath it, allowing his hand to rest on her shoulder. It was definitely warmer here, and she was grateful for his added height. Regardless of anything else, he made a descent windbreak. She gave him a smile, and was a little pleased to see the startled expression on his face. Anytime she could startle him made up for all the times he popped out of strange places at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the new people who are reading this, it's good to know it's actually got an audience, that's not my sister or one of my friends. Please leave comments in the little box.


	16. The trouble with Irons pt 2

The walk was nice. Ian managed with some difficulty to keep his breathing even in spite of her closeness. Harder was concentrating on keeping the shielding up. Tonight was not the night for emotions to bleed over, though it was tempting to try to feel what was going on in Sara’s head. But it would be inappropriate; certainly he had no right to peer into the secrets of a true wielder. In all likelihood, her momentary acceptance was nothing but a temporary aberration, and shortly she would be back once more to treating him with disdain, if not outright hostility.

They finished his usual circuit of the immediate area near the house, Ian pointing out features of the security layout and Sara, ever vigilant, asking all the right questions, as well as a few that he was not expecting, but was pleased when she noticed. Various members of the canine security force greeted them on their walk, occasionally staying with them for a time when their paths converged. Ian let Sara hand out the treats and pets to establish her place in the pack. While Irons might object at some level to her unprecedented access, he felt that it could be an advantage in time, when she accepted her place in the family, whatever the nature of that place was.

For now, he was content to have her here. It was nice not to have to split his efforts to keep up with the two of them. Not that he ever minded doing what was necessary to keep her safe. After all, he had done more; even relished the opportunities presented to him. Killing the sniper for the protection of his lady was an honour, a privilege even. Of course what he had to do afterward was distasteful, but object lessons had their place as well. At least the man had felt no pain. Professional courtesy had its place too, even among assassins. But somehow he knew that was something, a part of their strange, shared mirror-life, that they could not discuss, not now, maybe not ever. Rather like the timely demise of Mr. Thomas “Killer” Gallo.

 

Sara was surprised to discover she was actually enjoying herself. Who knew that on his own ground, psycho scary stalker guy would have anything interesting to say? Sara realised that she was being unfair to him. Again. After all, except for following her, offering odd bits of cryptic advice which never made sense until she needed them to save her ass or her life, and the weird pseudo BDSM Master/Slave thing he had going with Irons that she didn't want to think to closely about, she still knew virtually nothing about him. But now she was learning.

She felt a tingle of…approval…down her arm from her strange metal hitchhiker. Irrationally, it made her want to strike out at Ian, at Irons, at all of them for dragging her into this weirdness. She paused, bringing Ian to a halt as well, and took a deep breath.

“Sara, are you all right?” he asked. She could see genuine concern in those expressive brown eyes. It was surprising and touching at the same time. It was also a little frightening to know that this man, who was so different and at the same time so familiar, actually cared about her as a person and not just as the wielder of the Witchblade, heir to magical, mystical bullshit, and all around weird shit magnet. Because somehow, unlike Irons, she was actually sure that Ian really _did_ care. And that scared her just a little.

“I’m fine, just getting a little tired.”

“We are almost finished. Perhaps you would like some coffee to warm up before I take you home?” He was trying to think on his feet. What could he possibly do to keep her here? He ran through ideas as quickly as he could, wondering what it would take to change her mind.

“Tell you what, get me the coffee and we’ll deal with the rest afterward, okay?”

Ian tried not to look as completely shocked by her sudden reasonability as he felt. “If that is what you…”

“Don’t get any bright ideas, tough guy. I’m just really tired.” He started to open his mouth to reassure her that he was not expecting anything, but he realised at the last minute that she was teasing him and merely smiled before leading her back toward the house and the promised coffee.

 

The crystal brandy snifter held in one elegant hand reflected the light as he watched her laying there, pale skin glowing, lips curved in a seductive smile that promised him a great deal more if he were willing and he was rarely not willing. She slid the sheet lower, baring round white breasts to his appreciative gaze. He raised the snifter slowly to his lips and took a sip, green eyes still locked with sapphire blue. Certain that she was completely focused on him, Kenneth Irons moved slowly toward the bed. It was one of the nicer guest rooms, and he was looking forward to this part of the evening. He stopped beside the bed and smiled down, still holding the glass. The young woman moved over to make room on the bed beside her, patting the empty space encouragingly as she allowed the sheet to slip further.

 _This is going to be much simpler than I imagined_ , he thought as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Gathering her attention to him again, he held the glass of amber liquor over her, slowly spilling a small stream into the hollow between the pale, rosy peaks. She started to shift but his other hand was there already, holding her shoulder in a firm grip. “Shhhh, let it warm, brandy is always best when allowed to warm.”   _There are some definite advantages to Sara’s preferences_ , he thought, at least at the moment. She was appealing, certainly, but it would put a definite limit on his amusements. With her, he knew, nothing less than an exclusive arrangement would be acceptable. It had been a long time since he had felt the need or desire for such restrictions. He gazed at the woman before him, laying perfectly still so as not to allow the liquid to spill. This, on the other hand, had definite possibilities.

 

 _God, how many more times can this happen without them actually making it in, or driving us nuts?_ Sara thought as she raced down a new and different hall. She and Ian had been sitting in the empty kitchen, her drinking coffee, him watching her, ever since they had returned to the house. The cook had made a small pot full of something truly fabulous (and she really wanted to ask what kind of coffee it was, but she was certain she couldn't afford it), along with a small plate of what she called biscuits and Sara called tasty before biding them goodnight, and leaving them alone. There was not much to say. Sara knew she was tired, and Ian seemed content to just keep her company while she drank and warmed up. Come to think of it, she wasn’t sure he drank coffee. That was before the noise started in his pocket again, before he pulled out his ever present little gadget that once again was telling him someone was trying to get over the walls. She nodded to him, and while she was more familiar with the grounds than she had been, offered to go see to Irons. At least she knew where he was, and wasn’t likely to fall over anything, which was more than she could say for the outside.

“He is not in his room, he has a guest,” Ian said in a rush, too hurried to even be embarrassed by the situation. “Up the stairs to the second floor and down the hall on your right, you will see a table with a mirror above it. The door next to it is the one you are looking for. And for God's sake, make sure they stay away from the windows,” he threw over his shoulder as he hurried toward the rear door.

 

Irons looked down at her, the robe pulled tight, and this time Sara noticed that it was not worn over...well, she wasn't going to speculate further on that. The green eyes were hooded, sensual, and the expression on his face left little doubt about what she was interrupting. He smiled at her, following her eyes to the bed where Linnae lay, sheet pulled up modestly to her throat, back to Sara herself. “What did you expect to find? You refused me, Sara. What choice did I have but to seek solace in the arms of another?” The slightly mocking tone and raised eyebrow made her wonder when she was going to stop learning things about this man that she would rather not know.

“Yeah, I can see how completely heartbroken you are…” she said, just loud enough to be heard. “Please, just lock the door and stay away from the windows until we have the all clear, okay? After that you can go back to…well, whatever…” she trailed off, a little embarrassed as she watched him pull the door closed with a last smile. She listened for the sound of the lock and then turned to face the hallway. It was only then that she realised she was blushing.

By the time Ian got back, Sara had worked up a serious head of steam. _How dare Irons smirk at me like that, who does he think he is?_ Sara continued to pace in front of the door, letting it all build up, looking for someone to explode at and knowing that Ian would come around soon enough to play victim. It was not fair, she knew it, but she just really wanted, no, needed to let the anger out and he was probably the only person she could blow up at that she would not have to apologise to. _Oh, yeah, that is really learning from your mistakes Pezzini_ , the little voice in her head growled. _Thought you were going to stop taking Irons out on Ian? Remember what Danny said, remember helping? What are you trying to do?_

 _Nothing, I just…_ The inner argument died as suddenly as it began when Ian appeared as if out of nowhere. Sara opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind, not just for what had happened but for startling her. One look at his face stopped her cold though. Ian’s shoulders were slumped a bit, his face mostly blank, but there was something about his eyes, that kind of feral anger mixed with disappointment and that last vestige of adrenaline from the chase. Sara knew that feeling, what it was like to be on the trail of something, only to have the perp get away. It always left that sort of reckless anger that nothing seemed to get rid of burning in the pit of your stomach. Yeah, she understood, only too well.

Sara knocked on the door to signal the all clear. “Another ghost on the fence? Figures. What is up with this?”

Ian merely nodded, trying hard to keep from looking away. He knew that Sara liked it when he met her eyes, but at the same time he was full of shame and boiling anger. The tactic was obvious, keep at them until they lowered their guard or were too tired and got sloppy, made a mistake. It was basic psychological warfare. They heard Irons acknowledge them vaguely through the door and, as he made no effort to let them in, Ian led her down the hall. _Probably too busy with his bimbo_ , Sara thought. _What does he care as long as we cover his ass?_

“I have done what I could, but I cannot seem to find anything. I will do a more detailed sweep tomorrow, but there has been nothing so far. Whoever they are, they are good, very good.”

“Care to discuss it over coffee? Maybe I can come with you tomorrow, two pairs of eyes, you know?” Sara said, wondering why she was feeling particularly protective of the man in black, especially since it usually took nothing more than seeing him to annoy her. _Must be exhaustion, I’ve got to get this case finished and get away from these two. They are contaminating me, dragging me down into their delusion_. But she continued to follow him.

“Yes, I…but I should be getting you back,” he said, feeling the rush of blood through him, that almost overrode the bitter taste of failure than had followed him back from the latest sight.

“Yeah, well now is probably not the best time for you to be leaving, and Irons seems to at least be busy for the night,” The last was said more harshly than he expected and there was a stab of panicked jealousy before he realised that her reaction was probably more to the way she had caught him than any interest on her part.

“I will find you a room, and something…”

“Whatever, thanks, Ian. Now about that coffee?” Although this late what I could really use is a beer.”

“A beer then. I do not think I can provide your usual brand but I think that a suitable replacement is possible.”

Sara waved him off with a kind of tired smile. “Whatever, just something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I hope you guys enjoy this. More story to come. Please to comment in the little box.


	17. the trouble with Irons pt 3

Sara sat back, curled up in the large chair in the sitting area of the room she would be staying in this time. Ian had gone for the beer and shortly thereafter an older man came and lit the fire in the fireplace. The room was nice, smaller than the one she had stayed in before, which made it only somewhat slightly smaller than her entire apartment. It was all in greens and golds, lots of wood and a couple of oil paintings that probably cost more than her bike. The chair was comfy, and on one side of the fire. There was another one opposite and a couch between, but the heat from the fire there had been a little too warm. _At least it’s comfortable_ , Sara thought trying to keep her mind off Irons, the situation, everything. All she wanted was her beer and bed, possibly with one of those tee shirts that Ian had loaned her the last time.  The knock at the door brought her thoughts out of their endless cycle. “If that’s you, Nottingham, come in,” she called out.

“And if it were not?” he asked curiously.  Having succeeded in gaining Sara’s cooperation, he was more than content, he was almost ecstatic. He knew he should not be so flip with the Wielder, but somehow he could not seem to control the happiness that was welling up inside him.

“I hadn’t got that far,” she said, accepting the beer he offered her and pouring it into the glass.

“I hope it will do. The other, I will…” He gestured and put the other things down on the bed, not wanting to embarrass her by calling attention to them.

“Going to join me?” she asked, nodding her acceptance of what he said, while putting all her attention on the glass in front of her.

“I will sit with you if you wish,” he answered. “I do not drink often.” Trying to stay calm, he slid smoothly into the chair opposite her. The thought of sitting with Sara, alone, by her invitation, once again caused him a kind of almost painful happiness. Knowing that not only was he doing as she asked, but also fulfilling his duty to his father and the Witchblade, brought him a satisfaction that almost served to wipe away the dull taste of failure left over from the wall.

“This is good,” Sara said, trying to read the label on the bottle. “Better than what I usually drink. This assignment needs to end soon, you’re trying to spoil me.”

“You won’t allow it,” Ian said softly, almost regretfully. Sara stared at him, a little startled. Immediately he ducked his head, regretting his impulsiveness. Just because she was being kind to him now, did not mean that she would not turn on him at a moment's notice. Sara said nothing for a long moment, then chose to ignore it.

“What is with your boss? I don’t get him.”

“I do not understand,” Ian said. He immediately realised his mistake. Sitting directly opposite the way his master preferred left him exposed to Sara’s complete and undivided attention. He expected her anger, but she did not seem in the mood to attack blindly. He wondered if perhaps it was because she was tired.

“I mean a few weeks ago, he was putting the moves on me, the other day he says he's still interested in me, tonight he is all over some chick.”

“I thought you had made it quite clear that you were not interested. Was I wrong?” he asked, feeling as if a lump of ice had frozen in his chest, knowing he should be punished for his boldness, but unable to stop the question.

“I’m not. I just, I can’t explain. Irons just pisses me off, okay? I don’t like him, and I don't want to get to know him any more than I do...Hell, I don’t even want to _be_ here. Somehow I just get angry with him, and it is like it's personal, even though it isn’t. Why am I even trying to explain it to you?”

“Because I am here?” he said quietly. “I will listen to you, if you like.” The offer was so gentle, so genuine. “I will even answer questions as best I can.”

Sara was taken aback, but still it was not as if she had anyone else to talk to. At least Nottingham knew something about the Witchblade, knew something about the strange rollercoaster ride that she was being taken on. _What am I thinking, this is Nottingham_! “Yeah, you’ll just give me some answers that don’t make sense.”

“Sara, I am offering to do what I can. Some things are not easy to explain. But I promise you, I will not lie to you. Regardless of what you believe, I never have.”

“Yeah, well, unlike your boss, I’m not good with puzzles. I _like_ direct answers to direct questions. Seems like all I get anymore is riddles, from Irons, from you, from Danny, and this thing, it doesn’t even speak the same language, much less directly. I’m tired, okay? Ever since I got this thing, it has been one crisis after another. I’d just like a break. I want some good old fashioned non mythical, magical, mystical homicide, maybe a quiet evening or two, a chance to catch up with friends, that’s all. Nothing too much, just a little peace,” she said, leaning back and taking a drink. The pent up torrent of words she has just unleashed left her feeling a little empty. She also realised that she had just said an awful lot and to _Nottingham_ of all people. The quiet man just sat there, obviously waiting patiently for her to get her composure back.

“May I ask you a question, Sara?”

“Yeah, sure, why not,” she answered, looking into her beer glass rather than look at him.

“Was it any different before you became the Wielder?”

“Sure, I mean...”. But even as she started to say it she paused. What was the difference? Were the mystical bullshit cases really all that different from the mundane murders that she dealt with before? After all murder was murder, it pretty much all ended up with a body down at Vic’s and more wear and tear on her shoes. Okay, granted, no one was giving her help, even psycho cryptic, never makes sense till it almost didn’t matter, help, but still. So she had a couple more people who were being a pain in the ass, not exactly a big change there either. At least Nottingham could be useful, seemed like he was always there, watching her back just in case, overall that was definitely a plus. Especially with a rookie partner who was a serious homophobe, believed in vampires, and had a crush on her that was setting her teeth on edge, she needed something. This was something that probably bore more thought, but definitely not tonight. “You know, Nottingham, let me get back to you on that, okay?”

“As you wish,” he said, trying to keep the smile inside. He knew he had definitely made a point.

The conversation turned general, almost self consciously, and before too long they were back discussing the case. Ian could feel that there was something she wanted to ask, something that was rubbing at her like a pebble in a closed shoe. He had made the offer, but they both seemed to know that this was not the night for questions.

Instead they sat and talked about alternate routes and staggering shift changes, not to mention the impossibility of convincing Irons to just stay home until the crisis was over. “Okay, I get the not wanting to appear weak thing, but these guys seem serious, and this place is more or less an over decorated fortress. Hell, I bet you even have an old bomb shelter around here somewhere.”

“In a sub level below the wine cellar on the south side,” he responded casually without even a thought. “I suspect that Wilson has been using it as extra storage upon occasion for years, but I am equally certain that he would have it prepared for occupation in under ten minutes.” They were both smiling and it felt good, the sense of camaraderie. It was not like her relationship with Jake at all, with its mentor/student thing, not to mention the tension caused by his crush. Ian was at least her equal and if she had not been so relaxed, she knew it would frighten the hell out of her. Instead she blamed the day and the really excellent beer and decided not to question it. There would be more than enough time to worry about that later. At the moment she just wanted to be mellow. They talked for a little longer, while Sara finished her drink slowly. Somehow she knew that when she finished he would be gone and she was kind of reluctant to break the peaceful spell that seemed to have settled on this time and place.

All too soon the glass was empty and Ian was rising, wishing her a good night. “If you like, I will see to your coffee in the morning,” he said as he took her glass and the bottle to remove with him.

“Yeah, sure,” she said, dragging herself up out of the chair to walk him to the door. She did not want to analyse why she felt so reluctant to see him gone. As she passed, she saw the black tee shirt and the oversized robe that she had worn before. Once again, he had seen to her comfort, and all she had done for him was fail to yell at him for a couple hours. _One of these days I may have to do something nice for this guy,_ she thought, and then she shivered. _Yeah, that’ll happen_. But even as Sara thought it, she knew that while she may be uncertain about him, she was not going to be looking at Ian the same way any time soon. Unthinkingly, she called out to him as she started to close the door. “Sweet Dreams, Ian.” Before he could answer or even look back, she closed the door between them.

 

Ian was waiting in the corridor when Irons emerged from the guest room looking, well, Ian hesitated to guess at his mood, especially as he was still completely locked down, but he doubted it was too bad. He said nothing, but fell into step behind him. He had known his master would not stay. Irons generally preferred to sleep alone, regardless of his...amusements, the reason guests were always relegated to guest rooms. Ian had always considered that the partner who Irons' remained the night with would be a very special person indeed, and someone he would have to deal with. Fortunately, the spy was _not_ that person.

"And how is fair Sara?" Irons asked.

"She is well, sir."

"And still enjoying our hospitality, I see. Shall I ask how you managed this feat?" he asked, as they made their way towards his private quarters.

"I did nothing, she was tired." Ian had no desire to explain further, though he would answer questions if asked. He had no choice. "And your...spy?" It was a bold move, but he decided the distraction would serve. He'd never asked.

"She knows nothing," Irons said dismissively as they entered his rooms. "Her superiors want to know what their counterparts want with me. It is nothing more than the usual interagency wrangling. They do want to know what the CIA is doing operating in their area. Since this is the first real incident in the US, there is nothing on their radar, and it bothers them. Still, perhaps we can pit them against one another. But enough of that. Tell me about Sara." It was a command.

Ian put himself in his usual place and tried to organise his thoughts. "She is in the green guest room down the hall. I thought closer would be better, in case of further interruption. She chose to stay after the attempt on the fence. Since she needs to return tomorrow, she decided it was better."

"Yes, our Sara is not a lark of the morning. Is that the only reason?" Irons asked with a small smile. Ian looked down. At least he was in a good mood. "I will expect a full report when I return," he said, before leaving to go into his room. Ian breathed a sigh of relief. Now, having assessed Irons' state of mind, he could properly prepare what to tell him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And a little more story. Hope all are enjoying. Excitement is coming soon.


	18. Anticipating Trouble

_Can my life get any more screwed up if I tried?_ Jake McCarty thought as he got out of the department issue POS, parked around the back of the Irons mansion. Traffic had been a bitch, and when he had finally gotten there, the guard at the gate had directed him around to the “service” entrance. He figured that it had something to do with servants, and while he knew they were public servants, he still felt like he was being treated like he was second rate. Adding to that he had called Sara to see if she needed a ride, only to find that she was already at the mansion, and from the way she sounded, he didn’t think she had gotten up early.

He made his way to the door that he had been shown yesterday and was admitted by a pretty young girl in a uniform. _Okay, better_ , he thought, as he was offered a cup of really good coffee and led through to the small room that seemed to be turning into their command post. Sara was there drinking coffee with the black clad freak, leaning over her chair in a friendly way that just set his teeth on edge, like the freak was her partner, not him. She was wearing a tee shirt, too, one that was way too big to be hers, and also black. It didn't help his mood.

“Hey Jake, come look at this,” she said to him, not even bothering to acknowledge the grimace on his face. “I think we need to do something to avoid getting bottlenecked here.” She pointed to a space and he realised that the two of them were going over possible driving routes, both regular and alternative, between the mansion and the office in midtown. “Then there are the bridges…I wonder if it would be worth it to come around to the George? Nah, traffic always sucks there, and the day they don't have an accident it'll make the news, there are just too many delays. So that leaves us with the Whitestone and the Throg’s Neck as alternatives, I'm just not sure about taking 9 and the Broadway, it's a straight shot, but...” Jake dragged himself forward and reluctantly embroiled himself in the discussion of where and how they were going to deal with today’s trip to and from. He acknowledged begrudgingly to himself that Nottingham knew his shit and that if he were not so pissed at the guy he could probably be learning a lot from him and Sara right now, but mostly he listened and drank his coffee.

After their little conference, the three of them started toward the front of the house to get ready for what had the potential to become a daily procession, or a nightmare chore depending on who you were. Irons was standing in the doorway and there was an additional car pulled up in the drive, one that he did not remember from this morning's calculations. It was then that he saw her. The blond woman came out of the shadows with Irons at her side. The dress she was wearing was obviously a little out of place in the morning and the intimate smile on Irons face made it clear what she was doing here. Ever the gentleman, he handed her into the back of the waiting car. “See her home, Rodgers. And do not forget our dinner date tomorrow night,” the man told her, as though they were the only two there. Everyone else just ignored them, but Jake felt the need to look. As she turned her head, he realised that he was wrong, his life could be a lot more screwed up.

“Lynn?” he said, and then immediately shut his mouth again before anyone could hear him. They were right, his superiors. There was no way he would not know Special Agent Lynn Swan.

“Yo, rookie, you still with us? I am handing out assignments here.”

“Yeah, sorry,” he muttered under his breath, embarrassed that he had been caught. _Get with it, MacCartey, or you are going to blow this for both of you. Then the brass will be plenty pissed. This is a chance to get closer to Irons and find out what is going on and you are busy mooning over your ex and your partner. That is the kind of thing that could get you killed, or worse, **Fired**_ , he growled at himself and turned his attention back to the maps.

“Okay, Jake, you are with…Ian?” she asked as she flipped through the notebook, resting her foot on the bumper of the black sedan that was part of the security parade. “Yeah, you and Ian have the follow car. Then we have…Andrews and Benson? Anyway, two of your guys in the front, is that right?” she said. The man in black nodded, checking something off on the small electronic pad he had in his hand. He waved to a couple of men dressed in nondescript suits, that nonetheless seemed cut a little bigger than absolutely necessary unless there was the thought of combat. They both looked at Ian for their orders and accepted with no difficulty that they were taking their assignments from the woman in her serviceable blue jeans with the worn leather holster clipped to her belt. As Sara directed them, Jake realised that not only did he have to share a car with psycho-freak, but he had no idea what Sara was doing.

“Uh, partner, what about you?” he asked, hoping fervently that she would be riding with the two of them. An hour alone in the car with Nottingham was almost enough to make him break his resolution.

“Me?” she said a little sharply, almost as if she had forgotten herself. “My day to get the good seats, I’ll be riding shotgun with Irons and …Jennings?” she asked. The third guy, the one standing next to the limo nodded.

“I could even provide you with one if you like, Sara,” Ian said with what Jake assumed passed for assassin humour, and a smile.

“Nah, be too tempted to use it on your boss,” she shot back, but she was smiling too. Twisting his face, Jake turned from the two of them. Disgusting, that is what it was, the way the two of them were acting. How he was going to get through this without throwing up, he had no idea. “Speaking of which, is he ready to go yet?” her impatience was clear, and Nottingham stepped away to speak to his employer.

“Pez, listen, about these assignments…”

“You got a problem, rookie? Got a sudden desire to ride with Irons? Or are you just afraid of Nottingham?” She was smiling and he knew that she was just messing with him, but still he could not resist saying something.

“I’m not afraid of Nottingham, just not cuddling up to him. But why not split the security team? I could ride with one of them and the other one could go with him?” he suggested nodding toward where Ian stood talking with Irons.

“Were you paying any attention to the schedule when we were working on it? We have the two men from Ian’s security force, one of them trained at driving tactics, the other’s a weapons specialist, same with the Limo, the driver is trained and I am a good shot. You are driving the third car, and we are being joined by a couple feds that no one trusts to do anything but get in the way. You will get your turn, but these guys know each other and for now we are going with teams that will work. You should feel pretty good, Ian requested you do the driving.”

 _Yeah, wants to keep an eye on me, probably. He doesn’t trust me anymore than I trust him_ , he thought to himself, but he nodded, trying to look accepting as the other man started toward them. Sara was skimming the notebook quickly before stowing it in the pocket of her leather jacket and picking up the backpack that she had stowed the maps in earlier. It looked like it was a little too heavy just to have papers in it and he wondered briefly if she was carrying some extra hardware, but decided not to ask. With Pez, mood was everything and he did not want to irritate her. With a grimace, he plugged the two way in and adjusted his ear piece as she did the same. _Nottingham probably has the thing surgically implanted_ , he thought darkly as he watched the big man head toward them. It was time to get the show on the road.

Sara watched as the two security men climbed into the grey car that would go first. They were good, Ian made sure of that. When the threat had first appeared, he had stripped down the security force, putting those that he knew the best into critical positions, making sure that anyone who had not been with them more than a few years were assigned as far from Irons as possible, putting others in key positions where their skills would be best used. He had also stripped down the house staff to live in only. Sara understood the necessity, but wondered what the housekeeper thought of it. She had met the formidable older woman in the course of her introduction and the lady looked like she could handle anything. For some reason she reminded Sara of a nun who had taught her when she was a kid. She was glad she had not had to give her the news. Now she just had to manage not to kill Irons on the hour drive to his office.

 _At least you aren’t stuck in the car with those two_ , she thought as she watched Ian and Jake eyeing each other as they got into the black sedan, though it said a lot for the hostility level that riding with Irons was preferable. Jake still had that sullen look that had taken root on his face a couple days ago when all this had started and Ian was looking…well actually Ian was looking no more hostile than he did on any other day, especially when dealing with Jake. After the last couple of days of interaction between them she decided that she more or less didn’t care if they decided to beat the crap out of each other. Jake kept baiting Ian, and while so far Ian had managed to keep his temper after the one close call, she knew that the stress of the entire situation was making him edgy. _Yeah, edgy like those swords he’s so fond of, really really sharp_. Deciding that there was nothing she could, or actually even wanted to do, she stood aside and let Irons slide into the warm interior of the limo. As the warmth crept out, she discovered that in her distraction she had failed to notice how cold she was. Without her usual reluctance, she slid into the car behind him, settling into the jump seat so she could keep a eye on everything around them.

 

They were not expecting something particularly, but since both the house and the office had been targeted; neither were they willing to take a chance. There were a lot of logistical issues involved with trying to take someone on the open road, the biggest of which was that there was no guarantee that you would be able to isolate the car you were looking for. They had thought about decoy cars, having Irons driven in a Toyota or something, but if there was some kind of leak, they would not only not have the kind of protection, but would be endangering anyone else on the road in a car like that. These guy were not taking chances and did not seem concerned with collateral damage, on the other hand, Ian’s concern surprised her a little although she tried not to show it. He also pointed out that while the limo was slow and cumbersome, it was also modified with what he called “special features”, she was fairly certain that beyond bullet proof windows, there was a good possibility of a reinforced roll cage should it be forced off the road. Slightly reassured that the vehicle she was riding in was practically bomb proof, Sara watched as the car drove through the gates and out onto the road in the quiet neighbourhood of upscale mansions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little more to the story. I will admit, I am working on a lot of things right now, so some things might be slower than they should be. Please leave a comment in the little box.


	19. Car Trouble

From her vantage point, she could easily see the silver car ahead of them and Ian and Jake following in the black. She had noticed the disreputable looking Government Issue car pull out behind them as they drove out. It was almost the exact shade of brown as the Hudson River and looked like it had been recycled from the low end of the motor pool. Sara wondered if it was supposed to be city camouflage because it certainly stood out on the tree lined street with its neat mansions and expensive sports cars. On the other hand, they would not be able to miss it when they left. _That thing is uglier than that thing that Danny and I had on our first undercover assignment._

“Yeah, but I bet the heat works,” her ghostly partner said from the seat across from her. _This must be hell_ , she thought, as she looked over at Irons, cheerfully ignoring her, as he had been since she got in. He had acknowledged her with a half smile and then buried himself in a pile of things taken from the open briefcase on the seat next to him.

“What…” she tried to whisper under her breath. It was apparent that Irons felt nothing from Danny’s presence, either than or he was just ignoring them. With Irons, she could never tell.

“Just listen, partner, you can do that, right?” he said with a familiar smile.

“Just get on with it,” she whispered fiercely.

“Did you say something Sara?” Irons asked, looking up from something thick and official looking.

“No, err… just clearing my throat,” she said, knowing that the excuse sounded lame, but with no better idea. Irons raised an eyebrow, but then nodded and returned to his work.

“Sara, Nottingham has a weakness; you need to know what it is. Ask him.” _Great, first I am a messenger service, trying to keep Ian from killing the rookie because of cryptic bs from beyond the grave, now I have to ask Superman about Kryptonite, this just keeps getting better. Well, at least at the moment, he is giving advice in English instead of crypto_. She turned to face him again, but her partner had vanished. It had the advantage that she did not have to find a way to talk to him with Irons present, but there was still so much she wanted to say to him, most notably she needed to apologise for the way she had been last night. But that was definitely something she did not want to do with an audience. With Irons, she decided, it was best never to show weakness, taking a page from his book.

“Heads up, we’re coming up to that bottleneck,” the earpiece crackled in her ear, and Sara pulled her service pistol free and returned her focus to the road ahead. Looking out for real threats was much better than introspection.

As the driver eased the large car through the choke point, she noticed that even Irons was paying attention, his cool green eyes looking up over the papers he was reading, trying to appear unconcerned. For the first time she recognised a similarity in those watchful eyes, so much like Ian that it startled her. Sara wondered about Irons, she knew he was cold, ruthless, and arrogant, but what else, what did he know, what was he capable of? She left the questions for the moment and continued her vigil. The narrow point in the road, currently being repaired, an almost constant state in New York with the weather and the wear and tear, could provide cover and at the same time it meant that they had to slow down. The limo was a big, black, unwieldy moving target as it slowed even more. She watched the silver car cleared the construction and slow, waiting for them to catch up. Behind them she could almost feel the impatience from Ian and Jake, slowed to a near crawl as they threaded through the cones. The only joy for them was that the feds were stuck even further back, their dog shit brown Ford stuck behind the gleaming black sedan.

In the follow car, the two men sat in complete silence. Ian kept an eye on the limousine before them and the agents in the disreputable car behind them, while trying to ignore the man behind the wheel. Fortunately MacCartey was doing the same. He knew why he chose to torture himself this way. He had read the “rookie’s” file, he was a good driver. His skill as a marksman was somewhat less. He was competent, but he would never best Sara. Besides, he wanted him close, where he could keep an eye on him. In the back of his mind he was contemplating what Sara’s guardian had said. As far as Ian was concerned, the only thing Jake was good for was a decoy, or possibly target practice. As long as his mission continued as it was, he would do his best not to damage the blond detective. However if, in the course of his investigation, he became a danger to Sara or caused her so much as an uncomfortable moment, Ian vowed that he would make his end as long and as unpleasant as he could possibly imagine, and he had a quite vivid imagination. For just a moment it was on the tip of his tongue to tell him that he knew about him, but this was not the time for distraction. A vague sense of unease crept up from somewhere and he turned his full attention back to the car that held everything that he cared about in the world.

Soon they were past the obstruction, but for some reason Sara was still uneasy. The Witchblade was giving off a kind of pulse, but there was nothing obvious, she could see nothing, and that strange mental ‘itch’ that preceded most of her visions was absent. She looked out the window, but could see nothing but the cars she recognised. The only other traffic, having been freed from the construction, sped up and headed towards the Manhattan skyline at break neck speed. “Sara, what do you see?” Irons said, suddenly aware that something was going on, something important enough that his papers were shoved haphazardly back into the case without even a glance.

“Nothing, I don’t _see_ anything, but…”

“You feel something,” he said. Sara looked at him. She had his undivided attention, but for once it did not bother her. She could tell he was sensing something as well. “What is it?”

“If I knew that I would feel better,” she told him, pressing the button on her two-way. “Ian?”

“I feel it too, Sara,” he said before she could even explain. She could almost hear the tension in his voice and knew that he too was preparing for…something. “Benson, anything?”

“No, sir. We are coming up to that small feeder road, what do you want us to do?” They had discussed different strategies before, and at least one involved pulling off and blocking the car in. Now, though, they had nothing but a his and hers case of spider sense that neither one could or wanted to explain. They needed data and they needed it now. Sara looked down at the Witchblade, for once wishing it would do more than just give her the tingles, and then at Irons. She was surprised to find the cool and unflappable businessman unbuttoning his jacket to loosen what appeared to be a Walther PP concealed inside.

“You thought me completely incapable of defending myself?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, drawing the pistol as he snapped the briefcase closed with the other hand and pushed it into a kind of lockdown compartment she had not noticed before. In spite of the situation she could not help but be impressed, it was a very nice piece of hardware.

“No, I just hope you’ve got a permit. I don’t want to have to explain if there is a problem. Actually it’s a nice piece,” she said with reluctant admiration. Under other circumstances, with someone else, she would have asked to see it. It looked too good to be one of the new ones.

“Ian keeps them all up to date and properly filed. You may take a closer look at it later if you like,” he said, seizing on her obvious interest. “It is a good weapon, good size. Besides, the PPK is too small.” He held up his hands, his long elegant and entirely too large hands and they both laughed a little, before Sara shook herself. The little moment of shared…something with Irons did not really calm her any.

“Strap yourself in, just in case,” she said. Irons looked for a moment like he might argue the point with her, but instead he sighed and opened his coat, carefully pulling the shoulder belt on with an eye toward keeping his suit as crisp as possible. Reaching down into the bag, she withdrew the heavy Desert Eagle and, attracting the attention of the driver, passed it through the open panel before ordering him to raise it. Jennings was a professional, having been briefed before they left the house, he accepted the large weapon without a comment and continued to keep his eye on the road even as he pressed the button further isolating her with Irons in the back of the suddenly slightly claustrophobic car.

A car pulled beside and passed the Feds. “Car,” Ian announced reflexively, unlimbering his pistol cautiously, one eye locked in the rear view mirror as the car moved up on them. The tension in the sedan was palpable with Jake driving white knuckled; reviewing every lesson he had when he was still in training. Ian looked back again and relaxed visibly. The ageing, paunchy man in the old school banker’s three piece uniform would only be a danger if he chose this particular moment to have the heart attack that was clearly long overdue in his red splotched face. Jake narrowed the space between them and Irons, making it clear that where ever he thought he needed to be, he was going to have to wait or risk trying to pass the entire caravan. The young blond eased just a little though out of the corner of his eye he could see that Nottingham had not.

“Sir, I…” they both heard from the ear pieces. Then the world exploded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for those who are reading. You know what to do.


	20. Car troubles pt 2

When Sara looked back at the incident, it all seemed completely surreal. There was a brief moment, as the lead car was almost out of sight on a blind curve. First there were the voices, one of the security men trying to say something before the car suddenly careened wildly and came to a dead stop before them. Before the driver even had time to react, the big black SUV was on top of them. There was a flash of some kind, like strobe lights going off, and then with a crunch and a stomach wrenching lurch, the whole car flew sideways. She could hear a few distant pops, like gun fire, but that did not matter. Sara flew out of the seat, one hand still clutching the grip of her Glock. _Cars don’t go sideways_ , she thought irrelevantly as she felt her head impact something. A light exploded behind her eyes, and she heard a lot of shouting over the radio as the car lurched sickeningly over at an unnatural angle. The shooting and the shouting stopped almost as if it had been cut with a knife. For a moment she thought her ear bud had pulled free, but then she heard Ian’s voice, calm and commanding, calling for a check.

Sara had been thrown free of the jump seat and was now clasped firmly in the arms of the last man she ever wanted to be that close to. “Are you hurt, Sara?” he asked solicitously.

“Let go of me,” she growled, pulling back as if burnt. The large vehicle was at a strange angle and when Irons released her, Sara slipped until found herself against a door she was sure would not open. “Ian? Nottingham, what is your situation, repeat, is everyone out there okay?”

“Sara, are you and my…Mr. Irons all right?” It was not in what he said so much, but the way he said it, his voice was still cool, neutral, but the words came out fast, not as careful as he usually was. _Probably just worried about his paycheque_ , she thought, not really wanting to think any more about Nottingham or what he might care about. _Yes, wouldn’t want him to care about you or anything_ , a little voice in the back of her head piped up sarcastically, _would be the end of the world_. Ignoring it, she turned and looked at Irons. He had pulled a handkerchief out and was pressing it to his lip, which was bleeding a little, and she realised that she was probably responsible, having flown into him when they crashed.

“Uh, I think he’ll live, looks like just bumps and bruises. Is everyone else all right? What the hell happened?” She could hear Ian, even as he tried to cover the mike, shouting instructions at those outside.

“Everyone will survive, the injuries are relatively minor, but we need to get you out of there.”

“Yeah, and we need a lock down, _now,_ damn it!”

“Sara,” Ian said, more or less calmly. The conversation needed to happen, and he had a pretty good idea what she was going to say and agreed with her, but this was not the time or the place.

“Sara, perhaps this conversation could be postponed while we deal with the more immediate issue,” Irons said calmly. Then she smelled it, the acrid smell of burning plastic.

“Shit,” she said, unable to think of anything better to say at the moment. “Okay, we have a problem here, smells like we have some kind of fire in the electrical system. Let me see if I can get the door open,” Sara climbed awkwardly up the angled car. The right door was a complete loss, she knew, the angle would never allow it to open.

“I cannot open it from the outside, the security system is set to lock down, and with the electrical system compromised…” he said regretfully. Sara gave the door a shove but nothing happened. Twisting, she tried to get better leverage, but there was no good place to brace herself.

“Will you allow me to help?” Irons asked calmly, though the smell was getting stronger. The two of them pushed, but it became quickly apparent that the lock was jammed.

“Sara, get Mr. Irons into the corner, the smoke in the driver's compartment is becoming dangerous. Jennings is going to attempt to shoot the window out, it is as close to bullet proof as possible, but the .50 in close contact…”

“Good idea, hope he has ear protection,” Sara said, as she pushed Irons down into the corner of the back seat and curled herself in front of him against the jammed door, wishing at the moment that she had something that would penetrate the bullet-proof glass or alternately, that they could just shoot through the sliding panel, even though she knew it was not a safe option. The pistol went off like a cannon behind the barrier and she could vaguely hear them helping to pull the driver free. Now it was their turn, if they could figure out how to get the lock free. The sharp pain in her wrist brought its own solution. “Ian, tac 2,” she said, getting him to change to private frequency. A brief sting of static and she was free to lay out her idea. “Ian, is it possible the Witchblade can penetrate the lock mechanism? If I can break it or get it loose, then we should be able to get the door open. It's getting bad in here; we are running out of time.”

“It should work,” he said, proud and a little cautious that she had asked his advice. “The vehicle is also at a bad angle, so we will need to stabilise…” he trailed off as he started to shout orders to whoever was still in walking condition out there. Sara did not have time to think about that though. She coughed in the increasingly harsh smoke. Of course she realised belatedly that she could have just asked the man in the car with her, but besides needing to know the situation outside and needing cover, they were both taking in more smoke than was probably healthy. Right now she just wanted to get out of the car, and get Irons out as well. She looked over at him and for the first time she noticed that like her, he was coughing in the oppressive, eye watering atmosphere. Without asking, Irons pulled the scarf from around his neck and offered it to her, even as he took his blood stained handkerchief and tied it over his own nose and mouth. “Sara?” Ian said, and she could see his dark form against the outside of the left hand door. Clambering up to the door, she tried to brace herself. She felt both feet grabbed around the ankles and started to jerk away reflexively, when she realised that Irons was actually trying to steady her, give her more leverage, It was too hot to say anything; to even open their mouths was to invite a wave of black smoke, though the scarf was helping some. With a nod to him that she understood, she turned her attention to the instructions that Ian was whispering urgently into her ear, directing where to attack the lock. The ‘blade obediently slid into form, a good sized weapon sliding from the gauntlet at the back of her hand. The sharp scream of protesting metal and the groaning of the door being pulled free was overwhelmed in her mind by the wonderful cool, fresh air that she breathed in. Ian reached down and pulled her out, lifting her easily as if she weighed nothing, before reaching back in to help Irons.

Once they were free, Sara was able to survey the scene. The driver of the grey car had managed to gain at least some steering control, but the bumper was almost ripped free and it was half spun in the middle of the lane, lights out, engine silent. The limo was a complete loss, the black smoke emerging from the now open interior making the suspicions of electrical fire a certainty. And the possibility of it reaching the fuel tank were pretty high, and getting higher. Unharmed were both the car that Jake had been driving and the wreck that the two federal agents had been in, parked primly on the shoulder. “We need to get out of here, Irons could probably use medical attention, and the driver, ah, Jennings, as well.  How about the other two?”

“They are well for the most part though Anderson injured his wrist fighting the wheel when they lost power. Sara, you need to be seen to also,” Ian said solicitously.

“Yeah, partner,” Jake said, completely oblivious to the fact that he and Nottingham were for once in agreement.

“We need to get Irons someplace safe, now,” she replied stridently. “I am going to assume someone called this in, so one of you needs to stay and deal with the locals, then…”

“The authorities have been notified, Agent Lyons,” he said, indicating the fresh faced man talking into his cell phone by the brown car, “has agreed to stay and explain the situation.” In a shorter time than she would normally have thought it possible, she was once again in a car with Kenneth Irons moving toward the city. Ian promised a full explanation once they were safe, and for once the words ‘safe’ and ‘Nottingham’ were not clashing in her mind. The driver, Jennings, was in the front seat with Anderson, a strip of something wrapped around a profusely bleeding cut as he watched the road.

With only two working vehicles, Jake had agreed to stay behind with the Feds and Benson who had been relatively uninjured, to deal with local law enforcement. That left Sara in her current position, still coughing, squeezed against the outside door of the car, with Irons in the centre and Ian on the other side. _It could be worse_ , she thought as she kept a vigilant eye on the world outside the window. Her head was starting to hurt and she was still coughing painfully, and feeling a little sick. I _could be sitting between them, or it could be a compact or both_. While it would have been better in some ways, neither she nor Ian would have allowed Irons on the outside, and the thought of being trapped between them, while not necessarily as nauseating as she would have found it even a day before, was still enough to make her stomach lurch with claustrophobia. Or maybe it was the smoke inhalation, either way it was a bad idea. Certainly they both reeked of burning plastic and that in itself was making her feel a little nauseous. Irons had wiped away some of the black, but his suit was streaked with soot and she didn’t want to see herself in a mirror. On the other hand, looking ahead of them, she could see the skyline of New York City, the end of the journey. It was enough to make her smile bitterly as she realised it was not even 10:00 am.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading.


	21. Office troubles

Once inside the building, Irons was whisked away, the little blond at his heels, presumably to get cleaned up and tend to whatever piles of work she had waiting for him.  It was patently clear that Miss Leighton was the one who kept everything moving smoothly, so as not to irritate the boss. Sara followed Ian, as he and and another man who met them at the door guided Jennings, whose head had stopped bleeding or at least slowed down, and Anderson, who looked okay but was holding his arm close to him in a way that implied otherwise, followed them down into the lower level. As soon as they went through the door, she realised that she had been duped. “It’s okay, Nottingham, really, I’m fine,” Sara said as she tried to pull away. She knew an infirmary when she smelled one and had no intention of getting dragging into any kind of medical treatment administered by some corporate version of the school nurse.

“Sara, it will be all right. Mr. Irons’ personal physician will come and take a look at you as soon as he has finished…”

“No, Ian, I’m fine, really, more than...”

“You inhaled a great deal of toxic smoke and while the ‘blade protects you, we would not want your partner asking too many questions,” he whispered to her urgently, leading her like a spooked horse. “I assure you the doctor will have been given his orders."

"What about Irons? He..."

"Like you, he has some protection. The doctor will not touch you. You merely have to play along while he goes through the motions. Meanwhile, I will endeavour to find you a clean shirt.”

When Jake arrived, he was directed down to his partner. Sara was sitting, foul tempered and impatient in the infirmary, an oxygen line across her face, wearing a clean tee shirt that was also too big for her, but one that did not so obviously belong to goth boy, drumming her feet restlessly against the metal table as Nottingham briefed her on what had happened.

“The SUV caught the limousine in the only place likely to be effective.  It was a precision strike, meant to drive it off the road which is almost impossible without significant intel. As you know, it was modified, which changes both the weight distribution and balance points.”

“So whoever was driving knew what they were doing, this wasn’t just some hired thug. How many places are there to get that kind of training? Professional drivers, law enforcement...”

"And federal agencies. Exactly," Nottingham added softly.

“Hey Partner, what did the doctor say?” Jake broke in, not bothering to acknowledge the man in black.

“Nothing, there is nothing wrong with me, the doc just wants me to sit here with this thing on my face for a little while, something about raising my blood oxygen level. So since I am stuck here for another…” she took a quick look at her watch. “Thirty minutes, Ian is briefing me, to keep me from killing anyone.”

“Shouldn’t you be resting or something?” Jake asked with concern.

“Look, if I have to sit here, I’m either going to get something done while I do, or I’m not going to be sitting here, got it, rookie?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said, a little sarcastically, sorry he had brought it up and cursing his own lack of tact. He knew Sara hated anything to do with doctors. Better to have said nothing.

“Okay, so we have a professional driver, that high tech auto arrestor... I've heard something, but I didn’t even know they had gotten far beyond the concept stage, and there is no way they got a plate down there in front of us…”

“I have seen some of the latest tests coming out of a division of Vorschlag, primarily law enforcement and military equipment and applications. But, I was unaware that they were available outside of prototype, and last I heard there were still serious issues with it,” Ian replied. “I will be contacting my sources, certainly there are a limited number of places they could come up with that hardware. They certainly didn't get it from us, and as far as I know we are the closest to a workable prototype.”

"Anything stolen lately, staff that suddenly quit?" Sara asked.

"No, but I will be doing a review of all of the people on that project and in that division of the company when..."

"Yeah, sure, in your copious spare time," Sarah added with a sour smile. "Geez, we need more eyes on this."

"Yes, but they have to be eyes we trust."

“What about those strobes, what was that about?” Jake questioned, trying to involve himself in the briefing and at least appear he was doing something.

“I am not…” Ian started, but his phone went off, and he held up his hand as he grabbed it out of his pocket. “If you will excuse me, there is a disturbance…” he trailed off, already heading for the door.

“Ian, do you want…” Sara said, starting to remove the tube.

“No, you and MacCartey stay here; he can tell you what he saw.” With that he was out the door. The two cops looked at each other and Sara shrugged and waved Jake to the chair.

“Okay, so the strobe went off…”

 

The call came in as they were looking over scheduling. Elisabeth Leighton leaned over the desk to answer. "Yes?"

"Miss Leighton, a man just pushed past me, insisted on seeing Mr. Irons. I called security, but he..."

"Thank you. I will take care of it, you have called Mr. Nottingham?" She replaced the phone to meet Irons’ inquisitive look.

"A bit of a disturbance in reception, sir. I will handle it." Elisabeth said as she walked towards the door, anticipating and receiving his wave of dismissal. She exited the office just in time to meet the gentleman in the hall storming towards the door she had come out of. "Excuse me sir, but Mr. Irons is not seeing anyone at the moment. Please _leave_." She looked calmly at him over the rim of her glasses. All she had to do was keep his attention for a few moments, until security or Mr. Nottingham arrived, whichever came first. But the man did not stop or even slow down, instead he bore down on her.

"I need to see Irons. Now. Get out of my way."

Elisabeth gave him a determined look and planted herself firmly before the automatic doors, drawing herself up to her full 5'5" in heels and praying that she looked more intimidating that she felt. He pushed straight into her with an abrupt shove, as she tried to block his path.  She grabbed his arm but as he shoved her aside, the door opened behind her, the sensor tripped by the commotion. Elisabeth was brushed aside and landed with a snap and a not terribly lady like thump. Ian was through the door seconds later, restraining the man with perhaps a bit more force than was strictly necessary.

Looking up from her position, she saw that Irons was on his feet, his face a mask of fury such as she had never seen or ever wanted to. Elisabeth tried to get her feet under her, embarrassed at her clumsiness, at being seen to be thrown like she was of no consequence, and that in front of her employer, but she could not seem to gain her footing. "Carter, how dare you come here and accost my personnel.”

"Irons, we need to talk."

"I had nothing to say to you before, after you lay hands on my assistant and forced your way into my office, you think I would have anything more?" the man said incredulously.

"Don't talk, listen..."

"Ian, see the doctor _out_ ," he said firmly, dismissing him as he turned his attention to his fallen assistant. He offered Elisabeth a hand and she took it, trying to recover as much of her dignity as possible. "I am sorry, sir," she said, standing a bit awkwardly. A small look of concern passed his face as he helped her into a chair over her objections. "I didn’t realise that he would put up such a fight."

"And I was unaware that I had hired such a tigress. Are you injured?”

"No sir." she said blushing a little at his compliment. "Just my pride, perhaps. And my shoe. I do seem to be having a run of bad luck." She held up her right shoe to show him. The heel had snapped off clean when she fell. He smiled at her, boldness and loyalty were rare traits and she had them both in abundance. It was not often that someone surprised him and pleased him as much as this particular lady had done.

“Shall I have Ian find time to give you self defence lessons?” he asked, amused, as he knelt to look at her ankle.

“Possibly, although I did not realise when I took this position that a black belt was one of the job requirements.”

“Perhaps it should be, especially as this is the second time you have been assaulted while in my employ,” Irons commented offhandedly, as she tugged her foot away gently from his hand.

“I will see that the job description is updated, sir.” She looked him straight in the eyes, but there was a glint of amusement there.

She was sitting there in the middle of her work day, not to mention in the presence of her employer, with him kneeling at her feet. Elisabeth realised that nothing could make this look less than inappropriate. She slipped off her other shoe and rose hurriedly. "If you will excuse me a moment," she said, and hurried off as fast as her dignity would allow. Irons watched her leave, startled as much by her equanimity as by her sudden departure.

She rushed over to her office, deposited both shoes and returned to Irons a little more slowly. Elisabeth would just continue on as if nothing happened and replace the shoes later. She had to admit that her wrist was a touch painful from her fall, and while her stocking feet were definitely embarrassing and a little chilly, they were also more comfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what to do. Thank you for reading.


	22. Office trouble

Jake had finished his abbreviated version of what he saw from the driver’s seat when Sara pulled off the oxygen tube in disgust and jumped off the examining table. “What’s up, Partner? Don’t you think…”

“What I think is that I’ve been sitting here long enough. I know that there is something going on, and with the situation the way it is, I’m not going to just sit here and wait for it to roll downhill on me.” She had tried to ignore it, but the Witchblade had been pulsing since about two seconds before the call came for Ian and it was only getting worse, like an out of phase subwoofer, setting her teeth on edge. She was not going to ignore it for one moment longer.

“How do you…”

“Besides the way Ian took off out of here like a bat out of hell? Instincts. Cultivate some, rookie, and your life will be easier, not to mention longer. Now, how do we get out of here?”

“Don’t ask me, you’re the one with the inside track,” he said bitterly, bristling at her assertion that there was something wrong with his instincts. He certainly knew enough to know that there was something wrong with Vorschlag and Irons, not to mention his pet assassin.

Sara followed the ‘blades directions, grateful for the cover that made it possible for her to foist her knowledge off on her relationship with Ian, rather than her super sense. Jake was a good kid, but there were some things that, good kid or not, he was never going to know. A few turns, and one spot where she had to take a moment to “reorient” herself with a few handy curses and she was on her way with Jake right behind her. They entered the lobby just in time to see Dr. Carter ejected forcefully from the elevator with Ian right behind him. Two suits jumped up from where they had been cooling their heels and immediately trained their weapons on Ian, while security, already alerted to trouble, did the same to the fallen intruder.

In only a second, security retrained their weapons from Dr. Carter and Ian to the two federal agents immediately, leaving the lobby looking like the Mexican stand off from a bad western. “Shoot him!” Carter shouted as he regained his feet, obviously angry at the way he had been treated. He threw a look of pure loathing over his shoulder at the black clad man behind him.

“I would reconsider that, if I were you,” Sara said, as she drew her own weapon just so she wasn't out gunned and pointed it at Carter. “I have a clear shot from here, and I am willing to bet that everyone here not on the federal payroll will be happy to agree that it was a righteous shoot. I think that in this case, my connections trump yours.”

“No one is going to shoot anyone,” one of the federal drones growled. “What is going to happen is that you are all going to drop your weapons and we are going to take Dr. Carter and this man away with us,” he said, waving the gun at Ian. “He has assaulted Dr. Carter, and we are going to take him…”

“You will take me nowhere, unless you truly believe that you can remove me by force. Dr. Carter has been informed that he is not welcome here long before. He gained access to this building without authorisation and using his federal credentials falsely, not only that, but committed an assault on one of the staff. Shall I file a police report on _that_? You are on private property, gentleman, and you are trespassing.” Ian’s face remained impassive, but Sara could see the rage that was boiling up in him. This was not going to end well unless she stepped in, and she was only slightly calmer than he was.

“All right, if you boys have finished your pissing contest,” Sara said, moving forward cautiously with her weapon loosely in her hand. “This is what’s going to happen. You two are going to take the Doc here,” she sneered at Carter, “and you’re going to get him off the premises, and you're not going to bring him back. If you do, he is trespassing, and I’ll turn my back and let Ian do…well, whatever it is that he does to trespassers here.” Ian gave a menacing grin from his position behind the man. “Now, you lower your weapons and security will lower theirs.” Ian nodded to the guards, who slowly lowered their weapons as the agents did the same. Sara kept her Glock in her hand, just to keep everyone nice and polite. The agents motioned for Carter to join them as they backed carefully across the foyer.

“Carter, one thing,” Ian said, his voice almost pleasant at the victory. Carter faced him with a black look. “I could have killed you in the elevator and no one would have been the wiser. One word, one wrong move, and you would never have assaulted anyone again, ever.” He raised his hand up to the mezzanine, and they could all see the two men standing on the rail, both with rifles, who had obviously come up from somewhere deeper in the building. “I do not leave anything to chance. Ever.” With those last words, Ian gestured for Sara and Jake to join him as he returned to the private elevator, turning his back on the retreating figure of the doctor and his federal guard dogs.

The silence in the elevator was palpable. Sara wanted to say something, to yell at Ian for scaring her, but she was not going to do it now, not with Jake there. _What was he thinking?_ _He could have gotten himself shot, and regardless of anything else I doubt he is bullet proof. As soon as we are alone I am going to give him a piece of mind. How dare he scare me like that_? For just a moment the logic train derailed and Sara’s brain went numb. Why should she care if he got shot, how could he scare her if she didn’t care for him, at least a little? She tried to push the thought away, to tell herself that it was just all the game playing and the fact that he had been good company last night, but deep inside she wasn't so sure anymore. What she did know is that she was not going to have this conversation here and now. It might bolster the story of their relationship with Jake, but that was not a button she felt safe pushing with herself right now, much less anyone else.

Trying to escape the thoughts, she looked moodily around the elevator, nothing to see, nothing to comment on, just two silent men, ignoring each other, Jake with obvious hostility, Ian with equally obvious disdain. Looking back and forth between them she wanted to scream or bang their heads together, but realised that while Ian would probably let her lay hands on him, she probably couldn’t get enough of a swing. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the elevator stopped and they all stepped out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And a little more. Please do what you need to do.


	23. Aftermath of trouble

Ian gestured the two of them to follow him past Irons’ office and in through a door almost hidden in a dark corner farther down. The room they went into was a real working office. Three walls were covered with shelves, two of them full of books, manuals and other print matter, the third with bits of hardware, guns and knives and bits of electronic gadgetry all in neat order. The fourth wall was covered with security screens showing both internal and external views of the building. Next to the screens, an inconspicuous door was set in the wall. Sara took a moment to orient herself and realised that it was a back door into Irons' office, allowing him to slip in when necessary without being noticed in case of danger. “Nice digs,” Sara said. “Now, you want to tell me what happened back there?”

“I am glad you approve, I forgot that you have never been to my office,” he said, covering her faux pas easily. _Great, I owe him again_ , she thought. She realised her mistake as soon as she said it, but she couldn’t take the words back.

“Yeah, you know I don’t like to be that close to Irons, if I can help it,” she said, directing her words in Jake's direction as she looked around for some place to sit.

"And I am not exactly set up for guests," Ian said, as he quickly dragged a couple of chairs out of opposite corners and settled himself into the chair behind the L shaped desk.

"So what was that all about?" Jake asked, only to be ignored. He filed away the name 'Doctor Carter' to check out later and turned his attention back to his partner and her...well, whatever he was.

The end under the security cameras was practically empty but the other was covered with reports, the screen of his computer, and other stacks of papers, all lined and stacked neatly with almost military precision. Sara had a brief picture of Nottingham with a ruler, lining everything up on an edge. Trying to get rid of the image, and not laugh, she addressed herself to the situation once again. “So, what happened back there? You said something about an assault, but the only assault I saw was you throwing Carter out of that elevator. I am kind of surprised you didn’t throw him out the window."

“The windows don’t open,” he said simply. “As to the assault, after he got past security with his false authorisation, he forced his way into Mr. Irons’ office after knocking down Miss Leighton.”

“Is she all right?” Sara asked.

“That is the cute blonde assistant, right?” Jake asked at the same time.

“She is Mr. Irons’ assistant,” Ian answered, “as to the rest, I never noticed.” The look in his eyes, the focus on Sara made it clear to Jake that there was only one woman who was worth his notice. Jake knew that the clear devotion should make him feel better about the two of them, instead it made him more angry.

Sara just tried to ignore it, uncomfortable with the thought that either he was a damn good actor, or there was something between the two of them that she did not want to explore, at least not now, probably never. “So what happened to her?” she asked, trying to get back onto even footing.

“She will be fine. Apparently aside from a slightly twisted wrist, a broken shoe, and her dignity, everything is intact. She tried to stop Carter, but was unsuccessful.”

“Yeah, no kidding, she is what 5’1, 5’2 without those heels, and maybe 100 pounds? And Carter doesn’t look like he has missed any meals in this lifetime.”

“Yes, it was not an equal fight. He will not be allowed in again. In fact, I have a meeting with the soon to be former security officer in…” he paused and looked at his watch. “About two minutes. Why don’t the two of you wait for me here, this will not take long.” It was clear from the tone in his voice exactly what he was about to do, and Sara could almost feel sorry for the guy, almost if he had not added another shock to an already over stressed day.

“Just point me in the direction of the coffee, I'm a little turned around,” Sara said.

 

Sitting in the office, Kenneth Irons reviewed the tapes with a smile. Not only was Carter further embarrassed, but the bond between Sara and Ian was growing. _Excellent_ , he thought, _she is beginning to trust him. While direct control may not be possible, she is getting closer to the boy, and my son knows where his loyalty and duty are_. He knew that even now Ian was sealing the breach that allowed Carter into the office. Soon everything would be locked down, and then perhaps they could stop focusing on the diversion and start looking for the cause. This morning’s disruption had been more than a ping on the system, or an attempted break in.  He could still feel the stiffness in abused muscles left over from the impact, then there was the suit ruined by the smoke. Perhaps it was just him, but he fancied he could still smell the smoke on him, a little reminder of what had happened, and he wanted nothing more than to get back to his home for a swim and a long soak. He hated the poison smell of the greasy smoke from the electrical fire, it reminded him of things best forgotten. _Perhaps this evening's plans should be postponed_ , he thought, _it will do no harm to keep her waiting_.

As his assistant slipped into the room on quiet feet, he turned his attention away from the screen and back to the other matters. Miss Leighton had somehow managed to find a pair of some kind of canvas shoes that were quiet, ugly, and far too large for her. She was trying to hold onto her dignity, having lost both her shoes and several inches in stature. “The papers, sir,” she said. From her position she was practically eye to eye with him. Irons noticed that she was still favouring the wrist that she fell on. Casting a quick eye over the things she handed him, he appended his signature where necessary. As he handed them back, he grasped her hand in his. Looking over it with a critical eye, Kenneth noticed her obvious discomfort at his touch, still he did not let go.

“You are injured,” he said.

“It is nothing, I caught myself badly…” She tried to pull her hand away, but he continued to hold it gently in a grasp much stronger than hers, examining it for damage.

“You will go downstairs to the infirmary and have it attended to,” he said. His tone of voice brooked no opposition, but she was not easily cowed.

“It is not necessary, there are other things to be taken care of,” she said, clearly dismissive.

“You will attend to it now,” Irons said more strongly.

“Thank you for your concern, sir.” She tried to pull her hand back, but he still did not let go. “There will be time later, it is nothing to worry about.”

“Let me explain this another way.  You were injured in my defence, therefore it _is_ my concern. When you have finished with your other duties, you will have it tended to. Unless you wish me to have Mr. Nottingham bring the field kit up here. If it becomes necessary I will attend to it myself.” The shark's smile let her know that there was no winning in this case, and the thought of her employer treating her injury disturbed her, but she refused to be walked over, even when he was being concerned.

“Very well, sir. I will report to the infirmary.” With her acquiescence, he released his hold on her hand. She smiled at him, “I will report as soon as I have finished the rest of my tasks,” she said as she slipped out the door. Kenneth smiled to himself. Yes, she was definitely a good choice. Picking up the phone, he made a call. There were other moves in this game that were open to him.

 

Sara took her coffee and settled into Ian’s chair to look at the security screens. “This is a sweet set up,” she said.

Jake was still sitting on the other side of the desk. He had refused coffee and was for the most part sitting and sulking. “If you like all that techno crap.”

“Nothing wrong with tech unless you let it take the place of skill and common sense,” she said, taking note of the monitors and camera placement while she considered what to say. It was obvious this was a back up, covering only the most important segments. Somewhere there was a main monitoring centre, probably heavily staffed. “And since when do you have a problem with tech?” Jake was a gadget hound like most of the men she had known in her life, starting with her father.

“I didn’t say that, I just…”

“Look, Jake,” Sara said, sitting forward in the chair. “I know you have a problem with Ian, so I’m just going to say this once more…Get over it! Him and me? None of your business. I didn’t ask for this assignment, and if it weren't for Irons' intervention I wouldn't have been allowed to take it. If you can’t let up, you can go explain it to Dante when you ask for reassignment.” Her words were harsh, and he could see from the look in her eyes that she meant business.

“C’mon Pez, I didn’t…”

“And then you can request a new training officer, rookie.” She spit out the last word with emphasis and sat back in the chair. There was a silence that hung in the air for a few moments while Sara let her words sink in.

Jake realised he had stepped over the line, badly. He couldn’t get himself thrown off this case without getting in deep shit with both his bosses. Besides that, the last thing he wanted was a new training officer, not when he was 95% sure she was clean, and she was the only one he was sure of. Yeah, he’d fucked up, big time. He let his personal feelings get in the way. It was bad policing, bad agent behaviour, and all of it was most definitely his fault. It was time to apologise and try to stop stepping on her toes about Nottingham. He didn’t have to like the guy, just keep his mouth shut. _Until the case is over_ , he promised himself, _then I’ll deal with him_. Aloud, he cleared his throat to get Sara’s attention. “Hey Sara, I didn’t mean to get in your face about it, I was just trying to be a friend. Sorry.” He looked at her and tried to smile a little.

“Concern duly noted, you think you can work with him?” she said, looking him straight in the eyes. Sara needed to know she could count on him, no matter what. While she seemed to be able to trust Ian, at some level, she needed to know that Jake was not going to be a hindrance. Jake met her gaze.

“Yeah, I can. I guess I just needed to be reminded.” Jake tried sincere and found it was easier than he thought, as easy as it had been lying to her so far, but this time he meant it. He would try to get along with Nottingham, after all, maybe he would learn something that would help nail him later.

“Good enough, Partner, but you screw up again…”

“Hey, like you said, I’m a rookie, screwing up is part of my job, just like straightening me out is part of yours,” Jake said, laughing.

“Great, just what I need, more babysitting, isn’t Irons enough…”

“Isn’t Mr. Irons enough what?” Ian asked as he slid silently through the door.


	24. Security troubles

“You know I’m right.  No….Ian,” Sara said. Her voice was raised, her blood pressure was up, and she almost lost it in front of the rookie who was obviously enjoying the dissension between them.

“Yes, Sara, I do. I even agree with you,” he said soothingly. “What I am saying is that it might be difficult to convince Mr. Irons you are right. Perhaps between the two of us, we might be able to get somewhere, he trusts both of us, but he can be...”

“Stubborn, arrogant, pig headed?” Sara offered.

“As you say. I know that we will have more federal agents here soon as well, after the attempt on him, and that little incident with Carter. I am surprised that they are not here already, and...”

“Okay, what do we know? 1) the people that tried to hit us today are real professionals, 2)…” she said, ticking them off on her fingers. “They have access to some pretty high level tech, tech that you yourself said is being developed specifically for law enforcement and military applications, and is still in prototype. This is not just some business related bullshit; these people have training, skill, and hardware. What was that bus that hit us anyway? I couldn’t really see it before it was on top of us, but you two must have gotten at least some look.”

“Some big SUV, black, that’s all I got,” Jake said, “but I was trying to do some serious defensive driving.”

“And quite successfully,” Ian said in a rare concession. “It was an Escalade, large Cadillac, probably with a reinforced frame, not to mention special mounting for the lights and the advanced EMP device, which I am going to take a guess was a one shot, or they would have targeted the other cars, then hit the limo,” Ian said with certainty. "Unfortunately, we will not know more until the techs have done a pm on the limo."

“Exactly.  What does one of those things run, without the mods? A hell of a lot more than I bring down in a year, that’s for sure. What we need is to buy some time, look into where and how they could have come up with this stuff. The question is, how are we going to keep Irons nailed down and safe until we can do something?  Maybe it is time to let the Feds in. They have the resources and the sheer manpower.”

“But they are not to be trusted,” Ian said firmly. “Sara, while I agree with you that it would be safer if we could convince Mr. Irons to stay home for the length of the…crisis, I am not sure that will be possible. As to the feds, I am not sure that we can hold them off for much longer, but perhaps we could arrange something. I will need you, Sara,” he said, his voice growing softer as he looked into her eyes for a rare moment, before looking away. “And your partner, of course.” The last was dismissive and said with just a bit of a sneer, but Sara decided to ignore it. "That we need the Feds, is perhaps a necessary evil, but I need those, besides my own security force that I can trust implicitly, not just for his protection but to keep an eye on the agents."

“Fine, let’s put this all into perspective.  First, tell me what happened that led to that little O.K. Corral moment in the lobby, besides his running down Miss Leighton? What is it with you and Carter anyway, and what about him getting in?”

“Carter and Mr. Irons were both involved in the training program that I was in with the military, you know that. They had a falling out over how things ended. I do not know the details, we are hardly on friendly terms, ever.  I was just one of his test subjects, and Mr. Irons did not discuss it with me. As to the rest, Dr. Carter used his credentials to try to gain access to Mr. Irons' office privately, a hole which has now been plugged. That was a very simple matter.”

Sara opened her mouth to disagree, but something in the set of his face told her that she would not get her answers now. “It must have been some disagreement,” Jake said, reflecting her thoughts unconsciously.

“It was, I'm sure,” Ian said sardonically. “But it doesn't matter, it will not solve the problem at hand.”

“Well, the most dangerous part of this whole business is the commute. I know that Irons is capable of running this whole thing from that overgrown museum, why does he insist on coming in, and what can we do to convince him not to?” Sara got up from the chair and  started to pace the room, distracted .

“We’re cops, we can just order him…” Jake started, fading off as twin looks of disgust pinned him to his chair. “I’m just saying…”

“What would make him want to stay home without looking like he was running away? Don’t suppose we could convince him to get sick or break his leg?” Ian shook his head silently as she looked to him for suggestions. “What if I really broke his leg?” she asked hopefully, but once again Ian shook his head, this time with a smile as he led them out of his office.

“Perhaps something less drastic is in order, even if it is less enjoyable…”

 

 

“Maybe you should talk to him alone,” Sara said as they walked towards Irons' office. She didn’t think he would let her get out of it, but right now the last thing she wanted was to deal with his boss.

“Not at all, Sara, he respects your opinion. Besides, in this case, I am going to need you to back me up.”

 _Damn, not going to let me bail. I’ll make you pay for that later, Nottingham_ , she noted to herself. “Okay Jake, you wait there,” she said as the hall branched, waving him towards reception.

“Hey, what about my…”

“We need you, rookie,” she said harshly, letting her impatience show. “I’m surprised the feds aren’t already up our…” she paused at the look on Ian’s face. “Anyway, you stay out here and keep watch for them.”

“What am I supposed to do about them if they get here, arrest ‘em?”

“Stall ‘em as long as you can,” she threw over her shoulder as she tried to keep up with Ian’s longer stride, heading down the corridor. Jake took a look around the room, the receptionist behind a semi circular desk with a computer screen and a phone with enough buttons that it probably took a Ph.D. to use it, the rest of the room was empty. Thanks to Ian and Sara, Irons was on a light schedule. The room was nothing but empty chairs and glossy magazines. Jake decided that now would be the perfect time, since it was quiet, to see what he could find out from the receptionist, at the moment watching him out of the corner of her eye as she typed away on the computer. She'd been nice enough the other day. Putting on his best “aw shucks” surfer boy grin, he moved over to one side of the console. If nothing else, he could have a good time flirting with her.

 

 

“All right, we are going to settle this now,” Sara said as they came through the door. Irons was alone at his desk. He put down his pen and looked up, each movement slow and deliberate as if to imply that regardless of their opinion, he certainly saw no reason to hurry. The impassive look on his face was enough to drive her rage and frustration over the edge. Ian decided that it would be prudent to stand back while he assessed the situation. Surely there was a reason that Irons was pushing her so intentionally.

“And what is it that we are meant to be settling?” he said, looking at her impassively.

“Don’t play games with me, Irons, I’ve about had it with you and your posturing. This morning we get run off the road and almost killed, the feds are going to be here with reinforcements any minute, and after that little dust up with Carter, we have to be ready to tell them _something_ ,”

“There is no need to be dramatic. I do not see that the situation is substantially different than it was this morning.  This is not the first attack, I am sure that you and Ian will be more prepared…”

“You can count me out! There is a major security problem here, and I’m not going to keep doing this.”

“You would like to suggest an alternative?” he said, one eyebrow raised. Sara bit off the first reply that came to mind and tried to calm down. Getting into a fight with the man would not get her anywhere, and Ian probably wouldn’t let her pound him into unconsciousness. Actually they were supposed to double team Irons, but she could tell that she had gotten voted bad cop and she was just not in the mood for games.

“I have a couple, starting with you locking yourself up in that fortress of yours with Nottingham and as many of the feds as they are willing to lend you and he is willing to clear, and letting us try to figure this all out instead of dividing forces like this.”

“Unfortunately that will not be possible,” he said dismissively. “There are many things I would do for you, Sara, but this is not one of them.”

Ian heard the words, but could not believe them. He knew that Irons would be resistant, but he seemed to be baiting her deliberately. He could not see the thread that his master, was following but Sara was right, and this time he would have to back her up, regardless of the consequences. Sara was turning red and he could feel the anger coming off her in waves. There was no way he could stop her unless she actually attacked him, and he didn’t think that was about to happen, at least he hoped not, as that was a conflict in duty that he had no idea how to handle.

Sara took a deep breath, and then another. She wanted to slap Irons around a little, make him see sense, but she knew that was not going to happen. Ian was standing there, looking back and forth between the two of them. He met her eyes and nodded, and she knew that it was time. He was ready to back her play, giving her a trust that she was pretty sure she hadn’t done anything to deserve. For a moment she started to wonder exactly what it was that was going on that Ian would… but then she focused herself back on the task at hand, getting Irons to agree with them before they had even more company. “You are one of the richest men in the city, the world even, there is very little that is not possible for you,” she said, biting each flattering word off like it was going to choke her.

“That is why it is not possible. If I let these people drive me from my routine, I am showing weakness. This world is a dance of predator and prey, Sara, and I prefer to be the former.” With that said he waved a dismissive hand toward the door and pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. It was the last straw.

“Fine.  If this is all some kind of macho pissing contest to you, then you can continue without me. I have more than enough work to do without this crap, and I will still get you when they succeed.” Ian looked like he had been struck, but Irons did not even blink.

“That is an empty threat, Sara, and you know it.”

“What makes you think that I won’t?” she spat angrily at him.

“Because, my dear Sara, you are inordinately fond of that piece of gold plated metal you keep in your pocket, and all that it stands for,” Irons said. His voice was at its coldest, the edge of his accent just a little deeper than usual.

Even hearing it, Sara didn’t believe he was saying it. _Son of a bitch, just when I get to thinking he is not so bad, he pulls this crap_. “You wouldn’t,” she growled.

“Sir, Sara, we have _not_ got time to be fighting. Sara is more than correct in her assessment. There is…” Ian started, trying to figure out how the situation had gotten so out of control. It was time he stepped in, but Irons just waved him away, which offended Sara too, although why she didn’t know.

“No, I wouldn’t,” Irons admitted, putting the watch away slowly. “In spite of the way you see me, Sara, I am not a monster,” he said quietly. “Or at least not the kind of monster you think I am. At any rate, it is not just about appearances, I have a business to…”

“Which can be run from the estate, with less risk to you, not to mention the danger to the rest of the security team," Ian broke in sharply, certainly with more heat that she had ever heard from him before. "Jennings has a concussion. Anderson will be nursing that sprained wrist for some time, and he barely missed breaking it. In fact, it is only through the grace of the Witchblade and Sara’s quick thinking that you and she are both uninjured,” he continued determinedly. Sara tried to hide the surprise and new respect she was feeling as she nodded in agreement. “Sir, this situation is far more dangerous than the usual jostling for power. While I do not trust the agents or their intel, and even less with Carter involved, I would not be doing my job correctly if I did not agree with Sara. You are most vulnerable on the road. The estate can be secured, we can even use some of their agents if necessary, which will allow us to keep an eye on them as well, since I do not trust anyone they are willing to give us. But we need to get to the bottom of this, and we cannot do that and continue this madness.” Ian finished what he was saying and stood back, looking at both of them as if daring them to start again.

“I do not see…”

“Sir, splitting our forces, having to secure not only the house and the office, but the route as well, takes time away from the real objective, getting to the bottom of the problem and eliminating it. Allow us to do the job for which we were trained,” Ian said, his tone containing a finality that was eerily reminiscent of Irons himself. Even as the words left his mouth, Ian was certain that he had overstepped himself and just as certain he would take nothing back. The look of surprise and respect in Sara’s eyes was worth any punishment that he would have to endure later. Looking at Irons though, he was a bit surprised by the lack of anger. He tried to probe the link between them cautiously only to find him locked down tight.

“As you say,” Irons said finally, his voice neutral, as though they had not come within moments of a devastating confrontation, but there was something else there, perhaps he was tired. “I assume that the two of you have some kind of plan?” The eyebrow was raised and there was sarcasm in every syllable but Sara managed to hold her tongue—barely.

“Yeah, a few,” Sara said, paying sarcasm for sarcasm. “For starters,” she began, when she felt something like an electric shock. Ian’s head came up and even Irons looked like a goose had walked over his grave. At that moment the desk phone rang, the sharp, insistent sound piercing in the suddenly silent room. Irons looked darkly at the offending instrument.

“It appears we have less time than I expected. I suppose we will find out together.”

“Let the rookie handle them for a few,” Sara said, annoyed. Irons nodded and smiled at her.

“You are learning to play the game,” he said approvingly.

“I don’t care about the game, let’s just get the three of us all on the same page, so we can get this over with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so a little more of the story. Hope that you are still enjoying. You know what to do.


	25. Rookie troubles

Jake followed the two agents into the office with a mildly triumphant look on his face. Never mind that five minutes ago, he had been rapidly running out of options. He had tried everything from playing friendly to the 'all law enforcement together…' ploy to 'Irons is a busy man, not my call...' but nothing had worked, and he was getting desperate. He had not been quite desperate enough to blow his cover with them, but he had actually given it serious thought when they were called in. It was irritating, he was a highly trained agent and they treated him like he was some kind of slightly dim errand boy. Come to think of it, Sara had been treating him like that too, ever since this case started. Maybe it was time to put his foot down with her, make her understand that he was just as good as she was, if not better. Yeah, time to assert his rights, that was the ticket. They entered the office to find Irons sitting behind his desk with a cat that ate the canary look, while his bodyguard stood near the door looking the height of psycho goth chic, letting them pass him as they went in. Sara was sitting on the couch near the door as well, watching them in a way that they would have taken as a threat if they knew her, but they didn’t know her. Jake went and took a chair near her, figuring it would be safer to be on her side than anywhere else.

“Gentlemen, I have given you my answer before, yet you keep coming back, why is that?” Irons had that smile that Jake knew made Sara want to tear his throat out, but as he looked over at her, Sara just sat back, like she was watching a movie. Knowing her, they had something planned and he was just going to have to wait. James and Rowlands were there just like before. He supposed that James had figured it was time for the big guns.

“That was before you were attacked on the road and almost killed. You need more protection, Mr. Irons, and we have the manpower to do it.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” he said. "There is always the possibility that you arranged this.”

“Us?” Rowlands said, his face going red. James gave him a dirty look and he settled down, though not at all graciously.

“We are not in the habit of attacking citizens that we are supposed to be protecting,” the agent in charge said, trying to keep his voice even.

“Indeed,” Irons replied noncommittally. “Regardless, I am not certain I can or should trust your people. That being said, Nottingham is inclined to accept your offer, and I _do_ trust him,” he said slowly.

“In a limited capacity,” Ian replied, bringing their attention to the fact that he was behind them, near the only door out. He looked relaxed, but even relaxed there was a quality about him like a loaded spring.

“So gentlemen, perhaps it is time you listened to our proposal,” Irons said with a half smile.

  
_Trap baited, set, and sprung_ , Jake thought. Nottingham was looking neutral, while Sara was smiling now, like she was thoroughly enjoying the situation. Jake felt a cold shudder. He knew he was not going to enjoy this.

 

“Sara, why don’t I drive you to your place, then we can talk while you pack. I think we need to…” Jake said as they headed down to the garage.

“No, that won’t work, I told you. You take the car, meet me back here. I am going with Ian to pick up the new car and we will stop for my stuff on the way.”

“But Sara…Why do we have to stay? I mean there will be others, agents…”

“I tried to explain it. Irons doesn't trust those agents, and neither do I. We need to keep an eye on them too. We are going to help with the security, make sure that nothing happens to Irons, but more than that, we are going to be trying to investigate. That's what we do. Remember, if he gets killed, you and I can forget making grade. Dante will have me walking a beat in Brownsville and you will be lucky if you don’t end up transferred to Property, or worse, Traffic. Now just go along with the plan, okay? You don’t have to like it, hell, I don't like it, but it's not up for discussion. Besides, I thought you wanted to see how the other half lived.” Jake growled something under his breath, but when she asked, he just shook his head as Ian pulled around in a plain black sedan. There were times to have this fight with his partner, but now was not one of them, not with Nottingham there.

Ian dropped Sara off in front of her building at her insistence before turning the corner to search for a place to park. He had been resistant, but she pointed out that considering the time of day, he would be lucky to find a place to double park or squat in front of a hydrant. He could still be circling the block in the time it would take her to pack. _Besides_ , she told herself, _there is NO WAY I am going to have him looking over my shoulder while I pack my underwear_. She already had her keys out, one of those little security precautions that went with living in the city, and she noticed that Ian did not start the car moving until she was inside. _It is kind of nice, creepy, but nice_ , she thought before running up the stairs. Her apartment wasn’t bad, certainly not for the rent and the neighbourhood. But it was a walk up, the only elevator in the building an ancient freight thing that barely worked and didn’t go up to her loft on the top floor anyway. She had fought tooth and nail with the broker to get it reduced for that, and then with her furniture as she and her friends, including Danny and his then girlfriend Lee, had wrestled, dragged, pushed, and cursed her meagre possessions up the stairs. She spared a brief thought for Danny and Lee, who had not spoken to her since his death. If there was anything that she regretted even more than the loss of her partner it was the friendship she had shared with his wife. Pushing that thought back in its place, she fitted the key in the door. It was worth it though, she thought with satisfaction as she hurried through the door. She loved her place and was going to miss it a lot while she was gone. It was like her haven, her refuge from the rest of the world. _Irons has his walls, you have your heights_ , she thought, and then pushed it aside as she pulled out an old canvas duffle bag and dragged it into the bedroom and started throwing in stuff more or less indiscriminately.

She was just starting to wonder whether she had enough underwear and socks when she felt the tingle and then heard the knock. “Come in,” she shouted. She just knew it was Ian. _One of these days, I am going to figure out how he manages to get parking that quick_ , she thought, adding a couple more pairs of socks and another sports bra. If it was going to be more than a day or two, Sara knew she would want to get a workout. The door opened and Ian let himself into the living room.

“How did you find parking?” Sara asked as she grabbed some jeans from the basket they had been in since her last trip to the laundry.

“Alternate side just ended on the street behind you. You really should not have allowed me to come in like that, security is very lax here.”

“I knew it was you, what I don’t know is how you got in downstairs,” she said as she came to the door, holding a shirt she was trying to fold.

“I offered to help one of your neighbours with her groceries, an older woman who lives on the third floor,” he said. “She was very accommodating, but I think she has the wrong idea.”

“Mrs. Walker,” Sara said, passing across the doorway again, this time with an armload of toiletries. Ian considered briefly offering to help her before deciding that she would probably get the wrong idea as well. “She thinks that I need a matchmaker, always trying to set me up on dates with cousins, nephews, whoever. If nothing else, you’ve probably done me a favour. Could you give me a hand with this?” Ian was startled, but stood and walked cautiously into the bedroom, a place that he had never believed that she would invite him into voluntarily. Sara was standing beside her bed, struggling to get the duffel bag closed. He held the bag, pulling together the two sides as she pulled the zip. “There, that should be enough. If it isn’t, I’m sure that somewhere in that pile is a washer I can use.”

“I believe that we can arrange to have your things taken care of,” he said ironically, picking up the bag for her, while she grabbed her battered leather jacket.

“Ian, what about the surveillance?” she said, looking a little suspiciously around her apartment.

“There is none at the moment,” he said, looking about cautiously nonetheless. “I suppose that they have the corroboration they need. We should be going.” He lifted the bag over his arm.

“Sure,” she said as she checked the locks on the windows and pulled the curtains closed before grabbing the trash bag. The last thing she needed was to leave the trash around to marinate while she was gone, especially if the heat came up. Outside, she took one long last look at her cozy apartment and locked the door. Ian had grabbed the trash bag as well and Sara was left with nothing to do but precede him down the stairs. At the third floor, an elderly woman with a head full of carefully coiffed white hair and a fluffy pink sweater stuck her head out of one of the doorways, and called Sara over. She shrugged at Ian, but went to see what her neighbour wanted.

The old woman waved her down so she could whisper in her ear. “That one, he’s got manners, and just enough of the bad boy to keep it interesting. If you want my advice, he’s a keeper,” she said with a broad wink. Sara followed her look over to Ian, her bag in one hand, the trash bag hanging from the other. From the blush, she figured he heard, and she couldn’t help but smile.

  
“Thanks, Mrs. Walker, I’ll think about it,” she whispered back before saying goodbye and heading down the stairs, trying not to laugh at Ian’s discomfort or Mrs. Walker’s meddling. She knew she should be angry, but figured that if nothing else, Ian had succeeded in getting her off the hook. Maybe it would be a while before the old woman tried to set her up with another ‘grandson who just graduated from law school’ or ‘nice plumber with his own business’. Maybe she would just invite Ian in every week or two, to keep the old woman satisfied.

“Sorry about that,” she said as she showed him where to dump the trash. Ian shrugged as he tossed the bag in with the rest of the trash. “Tell me something, how did you know about the surveillance?”

“It is my job to know, just as you could use the Witchblade to tell you the same thing.”

“I can’t,” she said, frustration heavy in her voice. “Look, when I want it to tell me something, nothing. The rest of the time it gives me these strange visions, dreams and things that I can’t make sense of until I almost die or get someone else killed.” The volume of her own voice startled her. “Can we drop it for now?”

“Certainly, Sara, but if you would like, I can try to help. Mr. Irons would be a better choice, but perhaps…”

“Yeah sure, Ian, whatever, but not right now, okay?” she said, heading for the door. He could see that now was definitely not the time to press the point, so he nodded and opened the front door for her, right in the face of Jake MacCartey.

“What the hell are you doing here, rookie?” Sara spat out angrily.

Ian’s eyes narrowed, but he refrained from saying anything in the face of the obvious anger on Sara’s face. “I will go get the car,” he said, and started down the street. Under normal circumstances he would have felt the need to stay and intimidate the man, but one look at Sara was enough to convince him that he was better off not witnessing the scene. He knew what she was capable of. Things had been going so well, he did not want her to turn her anger on him. With her bag over his shoulder, he loped off toward the car. He did not want to leave her alone too long with that man.

Sara took a deep breath as Ian headed out, grateful that the man in black understood when to disappear. _Maybe he just doesn’t want to be in the line of fire_ , she thought cynically. “Well???”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And a little more.


	26. Trouble at the office

When Ian pulled the car around the corner at a suitably sedate pace, Sara was standing alone in front of the building looking like she wanted to spit fire. He could just make out Jake slipping hurriedly into the nondescript green police issue sedan that they shared when on duty. He offered to have Sara ride with him rather than take her bike. _She is very fond of her freedom_ , he thought longingly, pulling up next to her and trying to look neutral. He might as well not have bothered.

Sara was still cursing under her breath when she slipped into the car and pulled the door shut rather harder than necessary. “Who does that rookie think he is? That overbearing, chauvinistic, egomaniacal, self deluded…” she ran down as she ran out of useful descriptive terms. “I’m his training officer, it is my _job_ to tell _him_ what to do. Where does he get off questioning...” Ian focused on the road in front of them with perhaps a touch more attention than was necessary, but he had learned long ago when it was best to just listen.

It occurred to Sara that she should not be talking about the rookie in front of a civilian, especially not Ian Nottingham, but she was furious. She counted to ten and then back in English, and then in Italian, using almost her entire vocabulary in that language, and while she was still steamed, she was a little calmer and more than a little appreciative of Ian’s silence. “Thanks,” she said, as he pulled out onto 9th Avenue heading for midtown, hopefully ahead of the afternoon gridlock.

“It was nothing.”

“I don’t know what to do…” she said, then stopped. Since when did she discuss her problems with her partner with him, with anyone? Since when did she discuss her problems, period?

“When we get settled, I will be glad to volunteer to restrain him while you explain your dissatisfaction with him more thoroughly,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. He did not know what else to say, there was a possibility that Sara would turn on him, as she so frequently did, but he wanted to say something. It was a sign of how upset she was with the other man that she just laughed.

“I would have thought that was too tame for you.”

“I learned long ago when it is best to sit back and learn, rather than participate. Besides, it would make you feel much better.” Sara nodded a little and looked out the window thoughtfully. Ian said nothing, turning his attention to the usual growing insanity of afternoon traffic, while Sara watched the city go by, lost in thought.

 

“There is a courier here for you, Miss Leighton,” the voice on the intercom announced as Elisabeth cursed. The day had been a nightmare and she was still not finished as she tried to gather everything that Mr. Irons requested before leaving. Now she had to drop everything because the added security made it so that she had to attend to these things personally.

“I will be right there,” she said with a sigh. The shoes she had run and gotten from the discount store around the corner on her break were beginning to rub where they were too big, the wrist she had twisted when she landed was sore and starting to swell, and soon enough she would have to report to Mr. Irons, where he was bound to ask if she had gone down to the infirmary yet. As if she had time. Dragging herself to her feet, she minced carefully to reception.

Julie was sitting at her switchboard, making calls from a list Elisbeth had given her for rescheduling appointments. In front of her was a bicycle messenger, bag slung over his shoulder, clipboard and box in hand. She glanced briefly at the address, noted that it was directed to her office, and signed the sheet where he indicated. “Got some kind of bomb threat or something?” he asked as he tucked the clipboard away.

Elisabeth ignored him and started back to her office when Julie called her name. Turning she saw a florist, or rather, what she saw was a large bouquet of flowers, presumably with a florist somewhere behind. Julie waved her to sign, miming toward the board which had lit up with unusual ferocity. The vase produced another of the ubiquitous clipboards from somewhere in its depths and she signed it as well before beating a hasty retreat back to her office, or as hasty as she could in bad shoes with a sore wrist, one arm wrapped around a package, and the other trying not to tip the giant vase which had been released into her custody.

Returning to her office, Elisabeth put down her burdens and then went digging through the flowers, giant orange striped tiger lilies, to find the card. She realised with shock that it was addressed to her. Fumbling, she opened the card. “For a true tigress, with thanks,” it read, and it was signed _K. Irons_. She didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or pleased. It was nice to know that he appreciated what she had done, but she was not certain of the propriety. Putting it aside for the moment, she turned to the box. It too was addressed to her, but that was not that surprising as she signed for many things. However, when she opened it, she got a second surprise. It was a shoe box labeled Manolo Blahnik. Holding her breath she opened the box.

The shoes were exquisite, the right size, and far too expensive for her to afford. They were also exactly what she would have chosen if she was going to spend that kind of money on herself. They were basic black and had a high heel, but thicker than the ones that had failed her so dramatically earlier in the day. Elisabeth wanted to try them on desperately. She lifted them from the box and just held them, knowing that there was no way in the world she could justify keeping such an expensive gift from her employer. Steeling her resolve, she put them back in the box and started towards his office. The flowers she would just have to accept, mostly because there was no way she could carry them both and maintain her dignity. Besides, perhaps it would cushion her rejection of his more expensive gift, and they were beautiful. It was not unheard of for a boss to send flowers for a job well done. She smiled at them and headed down the hall.

Mr. Irons’ office looked like a war room. The female police detective was pouring over what looked like a large map spread on the conference table with Mr. Nottingham. The two of them seemed surprisingly comfortable together for some reason, despite the confusing signals that she had noticed from them since the first time the detective had come bursting through the door. On the other hand, the blond detective was standing back from them, arms crossed over his chest, face sulky. She had seen him arrive the last time she left Irons’ office and it was obvious that he had come out on the short end of whatever he had been up to. Standing quietly as though waiting for orders were two of Mr. Nottingham’s security men, both of them looking like they had been taking lessons from the man himself. Mr. Irons was sitting easily behind his desk, ignoring all the activity around him, talking into his hands free. She had arranged the conference call with one of the European subsidiaries this morning, though it seemed longer ago, and she had forgotten it. Mr. Irons was speaking calmly, his Italian as precise as his usual English, though with a slight accent that she noticed only occasionally when he was really busy.

Elisabeth looked around and tried to figure out how she was going to arrange this with the entire office full of people and the tension that no one was admitting to making it feel a bit like an armed camp. Even though everyone seemed relaxed, there was something she could not quite put her foot on. She was not going to confront her boss like this. Irons looked at her and raised an eyebrow inquiringly, but she shook her head and he returned to his call. Quietly, she set the shoe box down next to his briefcase and left the room, noticing as she did that her passage was noted.  Even though she was judged to be no threat, she was noted, cataloged and put in a box like those shoes, a part of the background of this place. The activity continued and she slipped back to her office to continue her preparations.

Understanding that there was a threat made against her employer, and what had happened this morning, Elisabeth was profoundly grateful when she had been told about the decision to run things from the estate until the situation was in hand. However, just because she was relieved for his safety did not make it easier for her. Her office was full of file boxes, each containing the information on a different project the company was involved with this week. Besides all that, she had to reschedule all of his appointments, arrange to reroute all conference calls through the estate switchboard, and hold things down at the office for the next two days until Irons gave her further orders, and hope that she was not required to relocate herself to the estate as well. Her boss had already suggested that it might come to that, and with the heightened security, she was already being driven to and from work and escorted into her building, something she was told would continue until the crisis had passed. That order had come from Mr. Nottingham himself, and when it came to security measures, she knew there was no arguing with the man. With a heavy sigh, she reminded herself that you do not reach the level she had and expect it to be easy, and then tucked back into work organising a major office disruption.

She had only just managed to sort out the new merger paperwork when the intercom rang again, the ringing signal letting her know that it was Irons. Suddenly nervous, she took a deep breath and took up the phone. “Yes, sir?” she asked, trying to stay calm.

“I need you in my office now,” Irons said calmly, but abruptly.

“Yes, sir,” she said, putting the phone down. He did not sound upset.  He didn’t sound any different than he did any other time when he called her because he needed something in a great hurry. For a moment she dared to hope that either he had not seen the box, or that he had simply accepted her decision and moved on, but she grabbed her tablet and hurried down the hall. The first thing she noticed was the emptiness. The crowd was finally gone, even Mr. Nottingham was not lurking in his usual position. Cautiously, she walked over toward the desk, where Mr. Irons seemed to be staring intensely at the screen in front of him, but she could see the shoe box, carefully centred on his desk blotter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And a little more.


	27. Of shoes and security

“You wanted to see me?” she said, being careful not to look at the box.

“Yes,” he said very slowly, his cold eyes looking over her appraisingly from her well tailored business suit to the cheap replacement shoes from the discount store. Elisabeth felt like a bug in a shadowbox, pinned in place, but she did not want to back down, not on this. “Is there something wrong with my gift?” he asked. The tone of his voice was light enough, but she could tell it was not as easy as all that. “Do they not fit, or is it the style you object to? I thought something with a sturdier heel might be…safer.” He opened the box and took out one of the shoes, turning it over in his hand appraisingly.

“Neither sir, I have not tried them on, although the size is right. But a gift this expensive…” she said, breaking off at the single raised eyebrow that said more than words ever could.

“I feel they are adequate compensation for the injury and embarrassment you suffered in my employ. Besides, they are certainly a small enough thing to prevent you from further injury should you have another accident, not to mention the time lost to injury, do you not agree?” The reminder of the rather undignified position she had been put in brought a blush to her cheeks, heightened by the smile on his face.

"They are too expensive, it wouldn't be proper..."

"What is it you are accusing me of?  Have I done something..." he asked, with just the quirk of an eyebrow.

"Nothing, sir. I just..." she hurried to reassure him.

“You will at least try them on.” It was an order, and without any real answer for him, especially after putting, if not her foot, at least a couple of toes in her mouth, she sat down in the visitors’ chair, and very carefully put the shoe on. He handed her the other one, and once shod, she rose at his indication and took a couple of steps across the floor. They felt nice, she had to admit that, fitting much better than the cheap shoes she had bought, or even the ones that had broken that morning. “Very nice,” he said appreciatively. “Now…”

“Where did you get my shoe size?” she asked, looking down rather than at her employer, not wanting to expose herself to those appraising eyes.

“I took the liberty of having someone check the shoes you threw out. You have also not had your wrist seen to, however, considering the disruption, I suppose it can wait 'til…” She turned just as the intercom rang to find him picking up the handset. She stood waiting, immediately going from uncomfortably personal conversation to professional in the space of a ring of the phone. Irons listened and then answered abruptly in the affirmative, before setting the phone down. “I will need those boxes now. Are the files for the merger ready?” he asked, as if the other conversation had never happened. Elisabeth was sent scurrying back to her office in an almost unseemly haste. When she returned, arms loaded down with the file cases she could carry, and the rest stacked neatly next to her office door, the place was once again full of people. Mr. Irons stood and grabbed his briefcase and indicated that she should follow as one of the men took everything from her, while he dictated instructions all the way to the ground floor and the car. Elisabeth nodded, focused on remembering everything he was throwing at her when she was unable to make a list. Once he was settled in the back of the car, the boxes locked away securely and the entire entourage away, she realised that she had never had the last word on the shoes. Going back upstairs to his office, she was unsurprised to find that the other pair had vanished. She had no choice, she could either accept the gift, or go barefoot. Elisabeth was almost tempted, but having worn them, she knew they could not now be returned. It was at that point she noticed that her feet no longer hurt.

 

“What is this whole thing with the shoes?” Sara asked as she sat next to Ian in the lead car. After her ranting about her partner the last time they were alone in a car together, she felt the need to put a little distance between them again. Nottingham seemed to be growing on her, and that thought scared her. She needed to focus on the job, which was even now getting more complicated, not on the man sitting next to her, and that meant keeping things lighter, and much less personal. At least she didn't have to deal with Jake, having detailed him to riding with Irons.

“Miss Leighton’s shoe broke when Carter assaulted her, Mr. Irons wanted to show his appreciation for her work,” Ian said, not taking his eyes off the road. "She was reluctant to accept the gift." Sara didn’t know which surprised her more, the fact that Carter had the balls to assault someone in Irons' office right in front of the man, knowing that Ian would like nothing better than to throw him off the nearest high place, Irons too for that matter, or the fact that Irons had noticed what was wrong and was capable of that kind of appreciation. She started to say so, but stopped herself. Sara knew that wasn’t fair. Irons could not have gotten as far as he had without being perceptive, and she knew he was smart, a little too smart. He just got on her nerves. Ian was quiet, watchful as he scanned the road and the area restlessly, looking for the next attack. The only advantage was, that at this hour, the traffic made a move like this morning much more dangerous and less likely to succeed. Ian was different, conscientious, he saw the world with a lot of the same caution she did. Sara leaned back, the questions would wait. After all, she would be spending more time with Ian Nottingham than she ever wanted to. Or at least that she knew of, at least now she not only knew he was there, but where and why. Maybe she should cut him some more slack, maybe.

Ian pulled through the gates and drove around to the back of the house. Sara followed, making only a token protest when he not only opened her door, but insisted on carrying her bag. Inside, what she recognised from before as the staff dinning room, it was a scene of chaos. Wilson was directing what seemed to be a crowd of people coming and going as he handed out assignments. Ian indicated for her to wait and asked the older man a quick question before gesturing her to follow him. He led her upstairs to a room just down the hall from the large double doors behind which lay Irons' personal den. “What’s the deal?” she asked as he opened the door for her.

“I thought it best to find a place for you near Mr. Irons, for extra protection,” he said as he set the bag down.

“Yeah, but who is going to protect him from me,” she said under her breath. Ian smiled a little and shrugged. It was almost boyish. She could not help but smile back.

“So what are you going to do about the feds?” she said, putting the conversation back on a more comfortable footing. “Are they all getting the royal treatment?”

“Hardly,” he said with more heat than she expected. “I believe that Wilson has cleared a storeroom downstairs for them to use as a temporary dormitory. He has given them some army cots and set up a command centre next door. They will have access to the secondary security centre, but of course under no circumstance can they be allowed access to main surveillance and control, or anything else on those levels.”

“Not exactly going out of your way to make them at home, are you? No thought that they might object to the treatment?” Sara asked as she looked around the room. She had stayed in this one before she was pretty sure, the first night she stayed here.

“Cook will be feeding them, and they have a place to rest and to clean up, it is all they should expect. Unlike them, _you_ are an invited and welcome guest.” Sara tried to resist either laughing at their discomfort, or to feel flattered by the way he made her feel. Those were thoughts that had no place in this situation. “They were foisted upon us,” he continued. “Also, it would be inappropriate for you to be forced to share a dormitory with them. The agents are all male, as the list stands now, assuming that my staff clears them all. If that changes, then we will see. This was also the best solution to the situation regarding our…” Ian stopped, and she could see just the hint of red at the edge of his ears.

“It was the alternative to having me bunk with you, and preserves the decorum?”

“Yes, although there will be times…” He stopped again and she could see the struggle.

“Listen Ian, we will just have to make sure they get the right idea. I understand that. It was my stupid lie that got us into this in the first place. What, you expect that I am going to go off on you because I have to live with it?” Even as she said it, she knew the answer. Yes, he did, because yes, she usually did. She had taken out just about everything on him, his fault or not. _Well that is going to change_ , she vowed to herself. _I will only go off on him when he deserves it_.

 _Yeah, right_ , a little voice in the back of her head said sarcastically. _That will last_. Feeling a little disappointed in herself, Sara followed Ian back out. The first cars were arriving and all hell was about to break loose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit more story.


	28. Settling in or not

When they got downstairs, Irons was already heading off towards his private quarters, having ignored the agents arriving behind him, and Jake who was looking at loose ends in the front hall. Wilson stood, looking impressive in his black suit, back straight, every white hair groomed with military precision, an island of calm efficiency, unruffled by the chaos around him. The agent in charge was one they had not met before, though Ian had insisted on his name, as well as the rest to run a preliminary before they were allowed through the gates, a man who identified himself as Foster. He was giving orders to Irons’ unflappable butler, or at least trying. Sara thought it would almost be funny, if the man wasn’t being so irritating. For a moment she thought that Ian was going to step in but before he could, Wilson spoke up quietly. “If you are quite finished, sir?” he said, clear and correct.

The agent looked like he had been slapped in the face. He just looked at the man, no idea what to say in response. Jake waffled between the agents and Sara, not knowing quite what to do. Sara just shrugged and nodded toward Ian who was entering the conversation. “Foster, you will follow Wilson’s instructions. He will show you where to set up and where your equipment goes. Afterward, we will meet in the staff room.”

“I don’t take orders from civilians, this is a government…” He never got any farther. Foster had been warned that this job required finesse, that they would be better off working with their security force, but he had to see what reaction he would get. Now he was starting to have second thoughts. Ian was in front of him faster than he thought was humanly possible, and close enough to make him nervous.

“You will follow Wilson, or you and your men will be removed from this house. Do I make myself clear?” His voice was cold and deliberate. For the first time, Foster thought about what he was up against. This was hostile territory, and he had put his foot in it. His men were moving restlessly, but so far there was nothing but posturing.

“Gentlemen, if you will drive your vehicles round to the back entrance, then I will show you to the rooms we have made available for you. In future you will use the service entranc,e rather than cluttering up Mr. Irons’ front hall.” With those words Wilson turned and escorted them out, directing Foster on how to get to the rear of the house.

“Jake, go with them,” Sara said, “help them get settled.”

“Sara,” he started, but he could tell by the look on her face that she wasn’t going to change her mind, and suddenly he realised what she was trying to do. She was sending him to get in with the feds. “Hey, wait up, let me give you a hand,” he said as he hurried off happily towards the door, glad of something to do.

“Okay, Nottingham, now that we got that straightened out, what do we do?” Sara said, turning back to Ian.

“We have some time while Wilson is helping them set up. Would you like to have a snack before we have to deal with the circus again?”

“If it is more of that stuff you had before, I’m all in,” she said, suddenly realising how long it had been since breakfast and how much she had been through in that time. “Especially if there is coffee.”

“I believe that I can promise you all the coffee you would like,” he said, smiling and offering her his arm. It was getting a little more natural. He wandered what she would do, but she took his elbow with only a moment’s hesitation. Probably the desire for coffee overrode any natural distaste she felt for him, he thought as they headed through the door that led below stairs.

In the end the quiet cup of coffee Ian had envisioned with Sara was irreparably disrupted, first by Jake, apparently revelling in his role as liaison with the feds, and then by Foster himself with his own set of complaints and demands. His first demand, made to Wilson, was that he be connected directly with Mr. Irons. When the older man rejected him out of hand and sent him to Nottingham, no one was particularly pleased with the outcome. Ian offered to attend to the man himself, but Sara insisted on accompanying him, possibly sensing his mood, possibly just irritated enough at the situation herself. She gulped the last of the coffee in her cup, sighed longingly at the rest of the pot and followed him anyway.

The scene in the room was yet another example of barely controlled chaos. Jake was lending a hand moving the tables into a different configuration, a genial smile plastered a little too firmly to his usually open California boy face. He threw her a “Hi, Partner,” as he followed the agent at the other end, a large guy with skin the colour of mahogany and a suit that looked just this side of splitting a seam. Sara wondered when the CIA had started recruiting from the NFL, but refrained from saying anything. The fact that all the agents in the room seemed to have been chosen for size and raw pound weight bugged her a little, not the least because she was fairly sure that Ian could take them all, singularly and/or in combination. She slowed a little and stood back to let Ian deal with Foster alone for now. The situation was squirrelly enough and she was jumpy thanks to not enough quality sleep and the strange quasi-sensations from her sentient jewellery that meant she couldn’t quite lay a finger on what to pay attention to or completely ignore. As much as the idea didn’t thrill her, she figured she was going to have to break down and ask Nottingham, accepting the help he had offered earlier. It was either him or Irons, and she wasn’t that desperate, not yet.

Realising that she had tuned it all out for a moment, she tried to catch up on the conversation between Ian and Foster, something about the arrangements, she thought. “Detective McCartey will be staying with you and your men, however, Mr. Irons and I did not consider it appropriate for her to have to share quarters.”

“Oh, that’s rich from him. Who is she…” He looked like he was about to say more but before Sara could even react to the implied insult she felt the rage burn through Ian. Foster must have realised it too, because he stopped whatever he was going to say mid sentence.

“Besides her personal connection, you mean? But beyond that, you have failed to include the names of any female agents, so I made the assumption that she would be the only one on this detail when I asked Wilson to make the arrangements. If I was mistaken, accommodations can be made, after I have them cleared,” he said, biting off each word to make it clear that while he would ignore the implied slight, he was not inclined to forget.

“Yes, well…” Foster said, back peddling.

“I thought not,” Ian responded. He had regained his equilibrium, and Sara could see just a hint of amusement in those brown eyes. “Now if you will excuse me, there are things I need to attend to before our briefing this evening. You may keep Detective McCartey for now, if it will help.” Turning, he started toward the door with Sara.

“Actually, I need to speak to Detective Pezzini,” he said. There was just a hint of nastiness in his voice, just a hint. Ian turned, obviously prepared to wait, while Sara shrugged and looked at him expectantly.

“Well,” she said, prompting him since he seemed to be taking his time. She was hoping to get back to the coffee and ask Ian a few more questions before things got any crazier.

“Alone,” he said looking from Sara to Ian. Giving them both a pleasant smile, he gestured for her to follow him into the other room where a desk had been set up for him.

“She and I have things to attend to. I was hoping that she would agree to help me with an errand. Mr. Irons has a guest who will need escorting…”

“Anything I can do?” Jake said, coming up behind them more quietly than expected.

“There you are, McCartey can handle your boss’s ‘guest’. You can give him his directions while I take care of this. Don’t worry, Nottingham,” he said over his shoulder and Sara glared and followed him. “I am sure that Detective Pezzini is capable of taking care of herself.”

“Of course she is,” Ian said without batting an eye, gesturing Jake to follow him. “What makes you think I was concerned about _her_?” he said over his shoulder and he motioned for Jake to join him in the hallway. While Jake didn’t care for Nottingham at all, privately he had to agree with him, Foster had no idea what he was in for. Having been on the wrong side of Sara’s temper he decided that for once, going along with Nottingham would at least keep him in Sara’s good graces for the moment. He pitied the man. Well, almost.

Jake had his instructions and was just heading out, for once happy about the task Nottingham had assigned him, picking up ‘Miss Swansberg’. He wanted to have a few words with her and this was probably the only chance he would have. When Sara walked out of the command centre, it only took one look at her face to decide that he had better head out immediately. She nodded at Jake and turned to Nottingham. “Ian, gym… ** _now_** ,” was all she said. Jake whispered a silent thanks to anyone and everyone watching over him that he was _not_ the one who had to deal with her and headed off on his errand.

 

“Just doing my job as I see fit,” Lynn said.

“Yeah, but since when is sleeping with him part of the job?” Jake asked, looking at her in his rear view mirror. Lynn hadn’t changed a bit since they had left training. The conversation, however, was not going the way he planned it. From the moment she got in, Lynn seemed to think that he was trying to butt in on her assignment and she didn’t like it one bit. In some ways, she was like Sara. _Maybe that is my problem, I like those tough chicks_ , he thought to himself.

“I do what’s necessary to get the job done, no more, no less and if you don’t like it, tough. You aren’t my handler. Besides, it’s none of your business who I sleep with, hasn’t been for a long time. Don’t try to tell me how to conduct my job or my life,” she said, leaning back in the deep seat.

“Well someone has to,” he said, starting to get a little hot himself. It wasn’t like he was the one doing something wrong or that he had asked for this gig. Besides, they had been something else when they were together. It wasn’t his fault they had split, just got different assignments; it didn’t make sense to stay together. He was just looking out for her, why didn’t she see that?

“Besides, it's not exactly an unpleasant assignment,” she said sweetly and turned to look out the window.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” she said, meeting his eyes in the rearview, “some men take the time to develop skills other than how fast they can clean a gun. Now, drive on.” With that last word, she turned deliberately to the window, completely dismissing him. As Jake turned his attention back to the road, he thought that perhaps he would have been better off as Sara’s punching bag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And a little more story.


	29. House bound

In less time than he had expected, Sara had changed and come back out swinging. Ian had wisely decided on the neutral focus pads. Sara needed to beat on something very badly and sparring would require more thinking than she seemed inclined to at the moment. While he wanted way too much to find out what had happened, he knew from experience not to ask.

“Damn the son of a bitch,” she muttered as she threw a flurry of punches hard and fast at him. Ian said nothing, merely changed his grip, prepared for the next onslaught. “Who the _hell_ does he think he is, anyway? It’s not like I asked for this crap. _THEY_ came to _ME_!” Sara punctuated her speech with sharp staccato punches, no longer noticing where she aimed as Ian anticipated her, keeping the force centred while she was so clearly not.

“First he tries to treat me like a complete moron, then he suggests that I got where I am by…” she stopped, panting as if she suddenly realised that he was a person, and not a punching bag. For a moment she hesitated, uncertain. Ian’s eyes flicked down. It was just a second, but it was enough. Sara continued, trying to sound as if she had only paused to get her breath. “He suggested I slept my way on to the fast track and that you and I, well,” she said, not really meeting his eyes. Things had been going pretty well between them, in spite of her reticence, and it looked like it was going to be a long haul together. But it was embarrassing, to admit that she let Foster get her goat like that. _Why does it matter_ , she asked herself, _why do you care what Nottingham thinks, anyway? And since when?_ But she knew she did.

Ian suppressed the urge to go and throttle the man. It would be counter productive in addition to angering both his master and Sara, but it would be satisfying. “He _is_ still alive?” he asked, trying to keep his voice neutral, and still convey humour. Sara could be unpredictable and he didn’t want to damage their new camaraderie.

“’fraid so,” she said, offering him a rare smile. “Killing a fed looks bad in your jacket, and I figured that even Irons couldn’t cover that up.”

“I won’t tell,” he said as he felt her relaxing. She took the next few shots slower, more deliberately as she regained her focus.

“Thanks.  Thing is, it was like he was _trying_ to push me. It was weird. First he was feeling me out, trying the whole ‘all cops together, what do civilians know’ and when I didn’t bite and agree to help him get past you to Irons, he turned it up, tried to pressure me, saying that it wasn't good for me, looked bad because of us. Then he settled for just plan insulting.” Ian nodded and focused on her moves. He knew only too well how Sara reacted to being pressured…not at all. Besides, watching Sara work out was like for him almost like a prayer, or at least a meditation, serving the Wielder, his Wielder, and basking in her beauty, her presence. He wanted nothing to disturb that. He was tempted to dismiss the man as a fool, but he knew it was all chess, just as Sara did, or would when she had time to think. These were the opening gambits, obvious and amateurish as the agent felt out their strength. There would be more, much more.

“…trying to get to me. Guess he succeeded,” Sara was saying as he dragged his focus back to this time and place.

“If that was the goal…” he started to say, sensing that she was looking for a response.

“Oh, it was, believe me. When he couldn’t get me to play ball, he decided to see if he could get me to do something stupid. He wants to see how close we are, and then see if he can drive a wedge between us. If I knew…” she started.

“You could tell them the truth,” he said softly, just barely catching her last punch as it went wide. It had been the most confusing, most exhilarating experience, but he knew it would have to end if it would make Sara happy. Still it was painful to bring it to words. “You could tell them that you lied to cover for me, you could tell them…”

“No way, Nottingham,” she said, stopping and looking up at him. “You aren’t getting out of this that easy. I know I dug this hole for both of us, and I apologised for dragging you into it, but this is going to take the two of us working together. I don’t like it, and I don’t like Irons, but the fact is, I need the information you two have to deal with this thing.” She waved the Witchblade angrily at him. “We may not like it, but there it is. We see this through, together. Besides, I don't trust them and you don't trust them. This gives us an excuse to be alone together to try to get to the bottom of things, without raising any suspicions.”

“As you wish,” he said softly, turning away so she could not see the triumph in his eyes.

 

Sara paced the floor, trying to shake off a little more of the nervous energy that seemed to build faster the longer she stayed in this house. Three days of lockdown in this overdecorated prison was making her edgy. Bad enough that she spent most of the day watching Irons do paperwork, or reading, or whatever he was doing. A bunch of tasks, phone calls, and whatever else it took to run the world or whatever the hell it was he did.  The rest of the time at least she could do something, research and batting ideas about with Ian, patrolling the grounds or just working out in the gym, which wasn’t as bad. Then there were the not quite nightly hits on the external security of the estate. They were not regular enough to be plotted or planned for, and the estate was too big for them to post sentries at every possible place. Certainly the most vulnerable of the access points were covered, and even the secondary targets, but they, whoever the mysterious “they” were, hit targets seemingly at random, points that could not in any real sense be seen as vulnerable. She knew, and Ian knew, that was the point, to keep them off balance. It did not mean they could afford to let their guard down.

The worst part was the direct surveillance, time spent keeping an eye on what Irons was doing, or more specifically on the Feds who were watching him. Irons fought and lost the battle with Ian over that, not willing to allow federal agents near him without one of them present. Sara almost smiled at the memory of Irons' face. It was clear that while he might be accustomed to accepting Ian’s expertise, he was not accustomed to him putting his foot down like that.  At all really, she revised. It had been kind of funny. Irons almost losing his cool while Ian stood there, face neutral, body position relaxed, or at least as relaxed as he ever got. Then he had informed his boss that their training sessions would have to be stepped up as well. She had not realised that Ian and Irons worked out together. It probably should have, she knew. After the other day, she knew there was more behind Irons' calm and civilised demeanour, but still. She was dying to see them. The thought of the ever poised Irons sweating and punching was too much for her. Sara remembered the cold day she had followed him on his run back when she was investigating Dominique Boucher. Even in a jogging suit, he had been controlled, not sweating or even breathing hard. She had to admit it, she wanted to see him out of control. _Hey, maybe Ian will let me help_ , she thought. The idea of getting to punch Irons in his ever so controlled face made her feel a just a little better. Lost in these pleasant day dreams, she almost missed the quiet knock on the door that she had been waiting for.

When Sara opened the door, Ian was standing there, trying to look calm. Not for the first time, she wondered about the shy smile that lurked quietly around his lips whenever he came to her room, which was daily. Behind him in the hall, she saw Michaels, one of the nicer of the agents assigned to the house, trying to pass casually along the hall. Except that it was not the first time, except that there was no reason for any of them to be passing down _this_ hall unless they were keeping an eye on the two of them, not with Irons downstairs right now. Angry at the prurient interest of supposedly grown men, she decided to give the man something to report.

“Hey, what took you so long?” she said, giving Ian her best sultry smile as she pulled him towards her. To give him credit, Ian’s only surprise showed in his eyes, as he put his arms around her in response. Before he could say anything she pressed herself into him and kissed him.

The kiss was a revelation for Ian. It was all he could do to try to keep his mind free of the web of pure pleasure lurking to ensnare him. In the logical part of his mind, he knew what she was doing, that she was putting on a show for the federal annoyance behind him,  but could not take away from the warm pleasure of having her in his arms, kissing him voluntarily. He could do nothing but respond with pure instinct, pulling her closer to him and letting the heat and desire boil up to the surface, just a little bit. The moment seemed to extend, drawing out like a strand of spider silk, spinning farther away. Fearing that he was loosing control, Ian pulled the two of them into the room and closed the door decisively behind them. There was an almost breathless pause as they separated from one another, a little awkwardly, a touch self conscious. Sara turned her back to him. “Sorry about that, but I get so tired of them lurking in the hall, watching just to get a thrill. The whole charade…”

“There is no need to apologise, Sara,” he said, his voice still a little husky from the encounter. “Being the lover of such a beautiful woman is hardly a strain for any man breathing, even if it is only a charade.”

Sara turned around, not sure how to take it. If it had been Irons she would have been offended, she knew that, but then if it had been Irons the words would have been full of innuendo and double-entendre. From Ian they sounded…natural, like he really meant them. It didn't help that the kiss, that had started out as a cover had almost turned into, well, he was a hell of a kisser. She decided it was best to take them at face value. “Thanks, I almost wish I could have seen his face,” she said with a bit of a smile.


	30. Investigating

Irons, sitting quietly in his study, felt the heat boil through him like lightening. He closed his eyes, pushing away the sudden rush of emotions. While part of him was tempted to indulge in a little emotional eavesdropping, it would serve no purpose. Ian and Sara would have to work this part of it all out between them. He only hoped he had given the boy enough tools to handle her. It was only moments, and then the feelings began to bleed away. These moments had been coming on and off the last few days, but this was the most intense yet. Opening his eyes, he noticed that the annoying McCartey and a federal agent called Murphy were paying little attention to him, one by the window, the other by the door; each seemed lost in their own thoughts. As if aware of his scrutiny, MaCartey turned around and met his eyes. Irons smiled at him suggestively, and watched as the man looked flustered and turned his attention back to the window. If nothing else it gave him first hand confirmation of a little piece of intel that might prove useful or at least amusing later. Contemplating how he could use the annoying man’s foibles against him, Irons settled into his chair more comfortably and began making yet another contingency plan.

 

“Okay, we have got to be missing _something_ ,” Sara said, sitting down for just a minute on the end of the table before jumping up to pace again. “Is there anything, anyone, you can think of from the project who is still alive and not accounted for?” The two of them were in what she considered as their command centre, a big room that Ian’s staff also used as a kind of break room when working at the mansion, since the staff dining room was too close to the Feds quarters to be useful. It was big enough and buried deep enough in the warren under the mansion that she was pretty sure the feds couldn’t find it with a tracking dog. Neither of them was on Irons’ watch at the moment so they were working on their other project, finding some answers.

“No one that I would know of,” he said, trying not to think about that time in his life, the cold white rooms, the drugs, only the time spent on base with his brothers had been worth remembering and even that was tinged with sadness.

“You were there, why…”

“Sara, they were a string of faceless men in lab coats, poking and prodding, giving us endless rounds of tests, drugs, and other treatments, I…” His voice was sad and she turned to look at him, really look at him. The pictures formed behind her eyes, unbidden, unwanted. She saw them, the white rooms, the sound dampening tiles, the army of men in white lab coats, with Carter flitting between them, self important, no more care for the subjects that if they were mice or rats or chimpanzees. It wasn’t even about the science for him; it was all about the glory, what it could do for him. Sara shook her head in disgust and tried to clear the images. She didn’t want to think about it, she definitely didn’t want to care. It was getting harder and harder to remember that it was Nottingham. Then there was that kiss. Yeah, it was her idea. Yeah, she started it. Now she would like very much to wipe the memory out of her mind. It had been warm, almost tentative, sensuous and went through her like an electric current. She needed to get this case solved before she got herself into something that she couldn’t get out of. _Besides, he is not my type_ , she told herself strongly.

 _Tall, dark, death on two legs, enough baggage to fill a 747, sounds like your type_ , the little voice in back of her head whispered, _keep telling yourself that_. She pushed all those thoughts away to find Ian looking at her with concern. _Great, just what I need now, psycho-killer is worried about me_. “Okay, I get it. So who would know?” she asked, knowing she didn’t want the answer.

“We should consult Mr. Irons. He sponsored the project and was involved with every step of the recruitment process, at least from the scientific end.” Sara sighed.

“Just when I thought I was done with him today,” she growled under her breath.

“I suppose it could…”

“No, it couldn’t, let’s get this over with. Who is on shift at the moment besides Jake?” There was another thing she was not looking forward to. Jake had been getting more antagonistic with Ian by the day and one of these days she was going to pound him into the ground herself, with or without help from Ian, who had shown more restraint than she thought possible. Ian smiled at her, knowing exactly where her thoughts were.

“Jake is with Fredricks, and O'Connell from my team is there, he's doing another bug sweep, he has an idea about how to render them inoperable, without the regular sweeps,” he said without a pause.

“Fredricks, that is the big ugly one from somewhere down south? Could it get any worse? That guy looks at me like I ought to be filing my nails and getting him coffee.”

“Yes, he is from Alabama and his father is a judge. Women’s liberation for him, I believe, means allowing women to drive, but only so that they can deliver children to school and back.” Sara almost choked when she realised that Ian was joking, just barely.

“And O'Connell is the Irishman with the scar, the tech expert,” she said. At least one of them was someone she didn’t want to smack, the man had a quick wit and an easy smile. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”

Sara followed Ian through the labyrinth of passages that made up the underbelly of the mansion. _One of these days, I am going to have to ask him how he always knows_ , she thought. _I wonder if he has him chipped or something_. Considering some of the high tech stuff she had seen here, Sara wouldn’t put it past him. Before this she had thought of Ian, when she thought of him, as some kind of psycho-super enforcer only without the knuckle dragging and a better command of language, kind of like Gallo’s thugs with super speed and a couple more brain cells working. Since this mess started she had been forced to re-evaluate her opinion, at least of Ian. Irons was another story. He still made her uncomfortable, alternating between treating her like a valued guest and a child. She and Ian had been asked to join him for dinner last night and a game of chess, a perk that had pissed off Foster, again, this time resulting in a reminder by Irons himself that, she was welcome in the house, where they were more on the order of a burden.  "I trust Ian Nottingham with my life, and her as well.  Remember that," Irons had said as the man left, trying to slam the heavy bronze shod doors behind him, and failing.

As Ian had warned her, Fredricks was skulking just inside the door to what she thought of as the living room, she had no idea what they called it. As they passed him, Sara noticed him glare at Ian’s back and then turned his leer upon her. She resisted the impulse to shove his leer down his throat with the better part of his dental work, and instead turned her patented Pezzini death stare on him. Danny used to swear that one look could get a confession faster than an old fashioned tune up any day, but he didn’t even seem to notice. She bit her lip and kept going, knowing she needed to keep her cool for dealing with Irons.

The main room was empty and Sara opened her mouth to comment when she saw him, sitting behind the desk in his office. Jake jumped up out of the chair by the window to greet her, pausing only to give Ian a momentary glare. “What are you doing here, I thought you were, er…looking into things,” he stopped lamely, glaring at Ian.

“That’s what we are doing, rookie,” she snapped back, turning away from him. Irons had come out of the office, looking just a little like the spider from the poem.

“You needed to see me, Detective?” he inquired lazily, that canary eating cat’s smile lurking around his mouth, one eyebrow raised. “Please come in,” he said, gesturing to his inner sanctum. Fredricks and McCartey moved to follow, but Irons only looked at them. “I do not believe that your assistance will be required,” he said, smiling as he closed the door behind them. Sara resisted the urge to smirk. There was something about the way that Irons did that, smooth. Pity he irritated her so much, she was pretty sure that he could teach her a thing or two about interrogation as well. _Hello, this is Irons, this damned house must be making you soft in the head_ , she thought, irritated, although with him or herself she wasn’t sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few answers, and of course, more questions. Please do what you need to do.


	31. Internal threats

“Now Sara, what can I do for you?” he said, the smile disappearing as he suddenly became all business.

“We have been over all the stuff that Rowlands sent, along with the stuff Ian dug up on his own, but there has got to be something we’re missing. Is there anyone we’ve overlooked?”

“I have reviewed the information as well as Ian’s briefing, it seems that they have been remarkably… thorough.”

“Yeah, that is what bugs me. The only people we have left are Carter, who I wouldn’t trust to tell me the correct time if we were both standing in front of a clock, and you. Ian was there, but he was a little tied up with whatever monster-making project you had going on there…” Sara stopped, realising that she was thinking out loud. Ian was looking at her with that wounded puppy look that made her realise that once again she had stepped in it, but it was Irons' reaction that was even more telling. His face completely closed up, he wasn’t looking at her, he was looking at Ian with some expression she couldn't quite decode, but it was not good.

“Sir, I…” he said.

“I don’t know _jack_ about what you were trying to do, or what you achieved, at least no more than I did before, but I _do_ know that it is where the answers are, I know it, you know it, hell, even this thing knows it,” she said waving the bracelet at him in emphasis. She could see the focus shift, something change in his attitude. He wasn’t thrilled, of that Sara was sure, but then Irons liked to play things close to the vest. He collected secrets the way some men collected art, or property, although he did that too. Getting him to part with them was going to be the difficult part. Sara stared at him, waiting. Irons looked at her, then at Ian, then he closed his eyes. She had never thought of Irons as old, but suddenly he looked tired.

“Sara, would you like something? This could take some time. There is one other. But they know nothing about that, they have no way of knowing.”

 

The food went in, the two men remained in their positions, but with one eye firmly glued to the door while O'Connell continued whatever he was doing with the computer. When the tray was taken away, there was a restlessness that seemed to make the large room start to shrink. Jake moved his chair back from the window a little, angling it to better see the both door and window. _Not like anything was going on out here anyway_ , he thought to himself. He shifted the chair a little more, the chair legs shrieking a little as they scraped the floor. Fredricks turned and gave him a hard stare, but O'Connell, the feisty Irishman, appeared to not even notice his focus on a tablet in front of him that he _said_ fed him security camera images, though he'd not offered to show either of them. Still occasionally he would type something in. Jake shrugged sheepishly, but it seemed as good an opening as any. “Wonder what they are talking about?” he asked the room at large, trying to sound casual. “Guess we will find out soon enough.”

“Not likely,” drawled Fredricks. “You think she’s going to tell you anything that he doesn’t want you to know? Best keep your voice down too. I’d be willing to bet they don’t want…”

“Wouldn’t matter,” O'Connell said, loudly from above. “The Lord and Master, ‘e’s got ‘is office soundproofed, doesn’t like to be disturbed when 'e's workin'.”

“Well, they could be doing anything in there then. Wonder…” he said, his voice dripping ugly innuendo. Jake gripped the arms of his chair and bit back his retort. _He’s just trying to bait you, don’t fall for it_ , he told himself sharply, _just hope he doesn't say it where Sara can hear him_.

“I’ll let you ask her when they come out,” he said, the smile plastered on his face like cheap linoleum and just as prone to crack if he bent it any harder.

“I’m not afraid of some dumb feminist, politically correct ‘police-person’ who got her badge to keep the femi-nazis happy, and who knows what she did to get her gold shield, but I bet it ain't what's in her head that did it,” the big man said, all in one breath, obviously he had been waiting a while to let the dinosaurs in his brain loose on the world. “Not afraid of her pretty goth boy either. Someone shoulda taken that boy out behind the woodshed years ago.”

“And you think _you’re_ that guy?” Jake said, trying desperately not to choke or laugh. _Where did they get this guy? Geeze, talk about central casting. I bet they give him assignments based on size_. The harsh laugh from above startled him.

“You want to say something? Or you going to defend your boss?”

“Not me, Mate,” O'Connell said. “I know better tan involve meself in Mr. Nottingham’s business.”

“But it’s your job to back him up, wouldn’t be fair.”

“Me? Nah, 's not my place. I’ll just be ‘anging back, taking bets on how long you last against him,” he said with another leprechaun on crack laugh. Jake shook his head and turned back to the window.

“What about you, McCartey?” he said, “You going to tell me how much of a badass Nottingham is?”

“Hey, you want to take him on, that’s your funeral, though I'd check to see if my insurance was paid up first, if I were you. Me? I don’t care one way or the other. But I’d stay away from Sara if I were you. She’ll take you apart.”

The room had only just fallen silent when the door opened and Sara stepped out, Nottingham behind her. Jake started to say something, but the look on her face sent him back into his chair, devoutly praying that Fredricks kept his mouth shut. It was a vain hope, pumped up on their conversation, there was no way he was going to back down.

“Learn anything important, detecktive?” he drawled with a smirk.

“Nothing to exercise your sizeable mental capacity on, Agent,” Ian said, hoping to head off Sara’s temper, but he knew that the chances were slim. Fredricks looked like he was still trying to figure out _how_ he had been insulted.

“If I think you need to know, I’ll have your boss translate it into Cro-Magnon for you.”

 _Make that none_ , he thought to himself as Fredricks obviously _got_ that insult. He shifted into a defensive position, wondering if he should offer, or just let Sara take him apart.

“If you weren’t a…”

“If I weren’t a what?” she said, giving him that look Ian was accustomed to seeing directed at him. He knew she was spoiling for a fight, and he saw no reason at present not to let her take out her anger on someone else. Besides, they needed an object lesson.  Some of the agents had clearly been assigned to push things to see what would happen, and this was as good a time as any to give them their answer. “A woman or a cop? Either way, I don’t need a badge to deal with a slimeball like you.” She stepped forward, clearly ready to start a fight with him right there.

“Yeah,” he sneered, “With your boyfriend right behind you to back you up?”

“Sara does not need _my_ help,” he said dismissively. “Be my guest, I am sure your federal insurance will be adequate to cover your hospitalisation, barely.” Sara gave him a full grin, looking forward to taking apart the overgrown bully. He looked back at her speculatively, but she was already backing up, making room.

“Nevertheless, _I_ would prefer if you took this somewhere more appropriate,” Irons’ cold voice cut through the tension like a knife. “I would prefer my furniture remain intact, there are some pieces in this room that you could not afford to replace in a lifetime, and I hardly think your employers would welcome the bill. Ian, if they insist, take them down to the gym, where Sara can dismember him at her leisure without breaking anything else unnecessarily, and the clean up is much easier.  With the current situation, we _are_ on a reduced staff.” Ian nodded, and called for a replacement for the federal agent. Just because this particular clown was foolish enough to take on Sara, that was no reason to let down the guard on Mr. Irons.

“I’ll be waiting,” Sara said, giving him a vicious grin. “Unless you get smart and chicken out.” Turning on her heel, Sara made her way out of the room. Ian gave the agent one last, sad smile and a shake of the head before turning to follow her, closing the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And a little more.


	32. attitude adjustement

Twenty minutes later, Sara was standing on the mat, dressed to kill, at least as far as Ian was concerned, and mad enough to kill too. “Sara, you don’t…”

“I am sick and tired of these guys.  If they want a fight, I am more than willing to rearrange a face or two if necessary. If he doesn’t show up, fine, I’ll let it go, but if he does…” she said, throwing a practice jab in the air.

“If he is foolhardy enough to show up, then he will have proven his stupidity.”

“If he doesn’t, you’d better be ready. Besides, you know they want to see what we've got, and they are less likely to try to retaliate against me.”

“I am always prepared,” he said, breaking off whatever he was thinking, when the door at the far end opened. Fredricks entered and headed straight to the locker room. Behind him was Jake, O'Connell, who'd put away his ever present tablet and smiled at his boss, another agent who was probably replacing Fredricks, and surprisingly, Kenneth Irons himself.

“I thought it would be the easiest way to see this through quickly,” the man said negligently, but she could see a glint of something cold in his eyes, something that told her he was chafing against this bondage as much as she was. It surprised her to think of him that way, but why should it? They all had lives, even the rookie probably had some blonde bimbo waiting for him in a bar somewhere, or at the very least, cartoons to get back to. This was going to be a chance to strike back at those people who were making the situation even worse.

Fredricks appeared from the locker room, sweats and a white wife beater stretched over a chest that was obviously too big for it. He was smiling an ugly smile and Sara was looking forward to wiping it off his face. She had plans for the evening, plans that involved trying to get a couple of ideas past Ian that he probably wasn't going to like. This was not a part of that plan, and letting herself get distracted was definitely not going to help.

Irons suggested helmets and gloves to prevent any permanent injury, and reluctantly they both agreed, taking their places across from one another on the mat. A few other members of the security force not on assignment, as well as the off duty feds turned up, having heard about the fight. True to his habit, Ian noticed O'Connell taking some very quiet bets in the corner, indeed, he thought he might have seen his master slip some money to the man. Irons seemed to be functioning as default judge, laying out the rules, such as they were. Ian could see from the look in his eyes that Fredricks had no intention of abiding by them though. _Ah well, his funeral_ , he thought looking over at Sara, his beautiful warrior goddess, ready to take on a man twice her size just to prove her point, that she would not be disrespected by this ape with a suit and gun.

When Irons called for them to lay on, Fredricks roared from his side of the mat like a bull, Sara stalked like a lioness. It didn’t take more than a moment for him to realise that his size and strength were not going to serve him against her. His first punch missed, almost spinning him around as he overcompensated. Sara jumped on the advantage, closing in behind him for a double body blow before backing away into a guard stance. Another couple of blows exchanged and Fredricks learned a little respect as Sara rocked his head back on his over-thick neck, but neither was ready to end it. They eyed each other warily, circling for the next exchange when he rushed her. The only warning was a little tingle from the sentient silver under her glove, which she had left on reluctantly at Ian’s request. She dived aside at the last minute, planting a foot squarely to the back of his knee, felling him like a tree.

“Well done, Sara,” Irons said, applauding her. "Don't kill him though, too much paperwork." She turned back toward him, willing to end it there, but Fredricks was coming up fast, clearly not ready to be beaten by a girl. It was instinct, really, she told herself as she lashed out one foot to his jaw, knocking him cold before he could come up far enough to attack again. Irons nodded at her and Ian offered her his arm. As they walked out, she heard Irons telling the supervisor on duty that someone should see to Fredricks, so he wasn't cluttering up the gymnasium floor, causing a tripping hazard, and suggesting that his assignments be changed. Sara tried not to laugh. Only Irons would be that smooth.

They walked together in silence back to her room, a wordless, mutual decision that neither of them seemed to notice. This time there was no suspicious agent lurking near the door, only the quiet empty hall. Ian closed the door behind him, but before he could address her or the situation, Sara turned to him with one word, “Shower.” Ian blushed, unable to help himself.

“Perhaps I should…” he started, but Sara spoke over him.

“You should sit down, right there, out here and stay here. I am going to take a shower and trust you not to come in for a peek, got it?”

“Sara, I would not think…”

“Keep it that way. I may be a while. He got a couple good ones on me. Guy has a punch like a truck,” she said as she gathered some things. Ian tried not to pay attention, not to picture in exquisite, excruciatingly painful detail what Sara would look like, worse, what she would feel like in the shower, as she removed some things from the drawer. Instead he redirected his thought toward what kind of ‘accidents’ could befall Fredricks around the estate, after all, it was a large area. The door clicked shut and Ian was left to contemplate anything but what was happening behind that door.

The shower was hot, with one of those massage gadgets that Sara had looked at longingly in the store but had never trusted the water pressure in her old building enough to spend the money. _Even if I did, I would never be able to afford this fancy model_ , she thought as she changed the setting yet again, focusing jets of hot water on muscles that she knew were going to scream at her later. All in all the fight had loosened her up and she was feeling more relaxed than she had in some days. Now she needed to think. Irons had given them some information, but now they needed to talk to the other survivor. Sara was not looking forward to being in the same room with Carter, she knew the man was lying scum, but it needed to be done. The hard part was going to be talking Ian into letting her go alone. She weighed the options, but no matter how she turned it, there was no way that Carter was going to do anything but lie. Even still it would be worth it, especially if she could get the ‘blade to help. At that thought warmth flowed up her arm and into her ribs, easing some of the tightness she had started to feel from Fredricks’ blows. She took that as a yes. Now she needed to convince Ian. While he would be useful for the intimidation value, she had an idea that Carter would let his guard down with her, or at least show his hand. He would be too focused on badmouthing Ian, to realise what he was revealing.

Sara stepped out of the shower and into one of the giant bath towels. Distracted for a moment, she wondered what Irons would say if she ‘accidentally’ packed one of the big towels, like people did in hotels. _These things are just too addictive_ , she thought as she dried off. Pulling her suddenly very tired brain away from the luxuries that she didn’t dare get used to, she tried to figure out how to put it to Ian to get him to agree. Somehow she just knew that Ian would not be comfortable with her seeing Carter on her own. It wasn’t just that he didn’t trust him, it was something else, like he was afraid that what Carter said would make her see him differently. _Considering the way you talk to him, wonder what he could possibly think would make you treat him any worse_. The nasty little voice in the back of her head, the one that whispered truths she didn’t want to hear popped up. This time she had to admit it was right. She had treated him like crap without even knowing him or giving him a chance. Once again, as she had done frequently in the last few days, she reaffirmed her commitment to try not to take her anger out on him anymore than she did anyone else.

Emerging from the bathroom in a big robe with a towel on her head, she found that Ian was, in fact, still seated in the chair exactly where she had told him to sit, looking as if he hadn’t moved a muscle. Sara didn’t know whether she should be disturbed or laugh. The brief possibility that he was making fun of her occurred, but the look on his face showed nothing. She did notice, however than someone had been in, there was a tray on the table. “I took the liberty of having a beer and some food brought up after your ‘exercise’,” he said. “And some liniment.” Sara suddenly realised that she was famished. Once again, he had anticipated exactly what she needed. It would almost be spooky, she thought, if she hadn’t had her spooky meter buried in the red for some months now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more story


	33. Finding direction

The food was finished and Sara had changed into the t-shirt and baggy shorts that served as her sleepwear. Ian had gotten as far as removing his gloves, his shoes, and unbuttoning his over shirt when she returned, but she was still too keyed up to sleep and still had not found a way to bring the conversation around to her plans for tomorrow. She knew that Ian would be working with Irons first thing tomorrow. Somehow when they had made the schedule Ian had kept her name carefully off that slot, probably concerned with her lack of patience, early in the morning. Besides, it gave Ian and Irons time to do...well the things that they needed to do, involving the security of a large and diverse business entity like Vorschlag. She was not relieving him, Jake was, leaving her the less exciting overnight. They had worked it out in teams, one of the feds, and one of the three of them (mostly to keep an eye on the agents), with members of Ian's security keeping them company at intervals with their own specialities. She knew O'Connell, the Irishman, was an expert on tech and computer surveillance, around a lot to make certain they didn't try anything. They'd already found several bugs, though Foster had denied the first two, and they'd not bothered asking after. Three shifts with overlap on each end, and each shift shimmed enough that it would take nothing short of an army to get to the man. Coupled with the paired down but fully trustworthy estate security, swelled with the limited number of federal agents Ian had allowed, dogs and electronics, it was impossible to break or it should be, still they were taking no chances. That of course was the idea, though so far there had been more than enough tries to have them all edgy.

Sara walked over and planted herself in one of the armchairs, seemingly oblivious to the curious look in Ian’s eyes. For a moment she studied him as if seeing him for the first time, the long hair, dark, curly now that it had been released from its pony tail, falling slightly over his eyes on one side, brown eyes with a hint of gold, wary and yet fully capable of expressing all the emotion he so rarely gave voice to. _He’s Fine!_ She thought, startled that it had taken her so long to really notice. Not really noticed anyway. It was a curious blind spot to have, especially when he was so often around. She realised that it wasn’t that she hadn’t noticed, just that she was usually so defensive, so ready to tack on caveats relating to his mental state, profession, position, and personal habits that the underlying facts got lost in the shuffle. Ian ducked his head awkwardly away from her stare, breaking the moment. Her first reaction was to yell at him, again, but she stopped herself. After all, she was just as uncomfortable being started at like an animal in the zoo.

“Sara?” his voice made her name a question.

“Sorry,” she responded, trying to cover her gaffe. “Just thinking.” He nodded, accepting her answer though she thought it sounded pretty lame. “You know, they haven't made an attempt to search my room, or not that I know of," she said, random thought popping up, as she watched him.

"They have not much had the chance, though I expect they will," he told her. "O'Connell mentioned they have been in the hall more often, when neither of us was around, he has access to cameras they don't even know exist. Somehow when they are alone in the corridor someone manages to come along," he said with a smile.

"Gee, I wonder how that happens. Maybe we had best give them something to find, shouldn't we?" Sara suggested.

"What...what are you thinking, Sara?" he asked, mouth suddenly dry.

"I'm thinking that you might want to leave some clothes here, maybe something in the shower? Look, they already know you are spending time, let's up the ante. If they are trying to search our rooms, and I am certain they don't know where yours really is, then maybe we make it look a little more like you are sleeping here."

"Let them find something, then catch them at it?" he suggested. He was trying not to think about what she was suggesting, adding to the perception that they were a couple. "It is a good suggestion."

"And Ian, maybe you _should_ stay sometimes." That brought him up short. It was not a conversation he'd ever imagined having. "Don't get any ideas, just to sleep," she told him.

"Sara, I would never..." he started, vehemently..

"Sure," she said, but then paused. "You know, I believe you. I mean, it's not like you've ever shown an interest..."

"No, it's not that at all, that's not true, Sara. But I would never do anything that would make you uncomfortable. I understand how you find Mr. Irons' attention...unacceptable. You are a beautiful woman, I would have to be blind not to see that. But, I...I am hardly worthy," he said, the last at almost a whisper.

"Stop that, Nottingham. It's...Look, let's talk about something else, okay?" she asked, trying to get away from the uncomfortable conversation. Practical, what she needed was practical.

"Very well, Sara, what do you wish to talk about?"

She thought for a moment, willing something, anything, to come to her mind. It wasn't like she didn't have questions, she had tons. "Okay, Ian," she said, deciding to start somewhere less fraught. "Irons..."

"Yes?" he questioned, waiting for her to continue.

"How do you always know where to find him?" It wasn't a question he'd been expecting, but he and his master had been discussing exactly when and how to explain the connection. Perhaps this was the solution, or at least an opening. But it needed careful handling.

"Are you certain you want the answer?" he asked, a little warily. Sara was not good with things that did not fit into her neat boxes. She was quiet for a moment, thinking.

"Yeah, I think I do. I suppose it's time I got _some_ answers, especially to the questions I've been avoiding, and frankly, I'd rather ask you than him. I was kind of wondering if you had him microchipped."

Ian laughed. It was nice, seeing him really relax, she thought. "No, although, it's not a bad idea. I will have to give it further thought. But the answer, as you suspect, is that." He nodded to where the Witchblade was playing at being an innocent piece of jewellery.

"Okay, Irons I get, he told me that he was...marked by it. But why you, what's the connection?"

Ian thought for a moment. That was a question he could _not_ answer, not without specific permission. But perhaps there was a way to tell her what she needed to know without answering directly. "Because my bloodline, my family is also connected." It was a good enough answer, in that it was true, if not the whole truth. "It is also why you can tell when I am at your door."

"So...convenient. That's you, me, Irons, we can all, what, find each other with mystical GPS? What else?" she asked.

Inwardly, he breathed a sigh of relief. As he'd hoped, she turned straight to the practical. It was something that was easier for her to deal with. "Yes. You could also speak to me, as you did to him before, at least, I believe it's possible, though it might take work, practice."

"It's also how you can always find me, isn't it? Come on, what else aren't you telling me? Can you read my mind?" Now there was wariness, the distrust coming back to cast a shadow over their peace.

"No, Sara, I cannot, nor would I if I could. It would be...an intrusion, an invasion of your privacy. But, if you were in danger, in distress, I would know, I would feel that." She nodded, processing his words. But at least she was thinking and not lashing out, not yet.

"Why didn't you tell me all this earlier, I could..."

"You didn't ask, in fact, you told me you did not _want_ my help. You were resistant to my presence, much less allowing me to offer help," he said honestly and then leaned back, waiting for the shouting, the anger. but it didn't come.

"I'm not good at accepting help," she admitted. "I'm worse at asking for it.  I just...maybe I wasn't ready to hear. I'm not quite sure I am now. This stuff...I don't know. But maybe...well, maybe you should show me, in our spare time, of which we have next to none." She gave him a sour smile. "Just not..." She found herself cut off by the now familiar beep of Ian’s security monitor. Sara swore roundly, showing a range of invectives the likes of which he'd not heard since he left the service, and reaching for her pistol where it sat on the table. Ian wanted to join her in her more colourful language. “Back fence again?” she asked as she stood up and dug into a drawer.

“West perimeter, about half way between the rear entrance and the corner of the property, what are you doing?” he said as he watched her pull her jeans over the shorts. Ian was halfway to the door already and Sara was obviously planning something.

“I’m coming with you, back up.”

“Dressed like that you will freeze, it is not necessary…”

“Give me your shirt,” she said. Ian stopped and looked at her, completely shocked. Involuntarily he found himself pulling off the heavy shirt he was wearing over a long sleeved tee shirt, though he still had no idea what she was doing. “Let them wonder,” she said, pulling the shirt over her tank and grabbing her leather jacket before preceding him out the door. There was nothing he could do but follow along, heading for the back door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little more. You know what to do.


	34. Into the Night

By the time they were out the door, they had been joined by two others, one she recognised as one of the feds, the other came from around the house with a large rottie on a lead that he released at their approach. Then they ran across the lawn, following Ian at a loping pace, through the dark and the shadows of the hedge, the trees at the edge of the yard. There was something timeless about it, Sara following Ian into the deep heart of the woods at the edge of the property, past the cultivated grounds. They had left behind the other two men, though she could hear them crashing along behind them, but the dog ran, keeping pace with them, until they reached the back wall. Ian took the wall like an NBA All-Star, while the dog stayed barking at his feet. Sara knew there was no way she could make that. She stopped, cursing and catching her breath, when Ian popped back up at the top of the wall, and reached down a hand. It still took a jump that was worthy of a high jumper, but she managed to grab his hand, and he lifted her, one armed, until she was atop the wall, balancing herself precariously between the spikes on top of the fence next to him, and the layer of upright glass imbedded in the other side.

From there, she could see the stretch of bare wall, the grass clipped low between it and the access road that ringed the outside of the estate. On the other side was a stretch of woods and another fence, separating the property from another of those houses of the rich and famous that this area was known for. Back behind them on the inside of the wall, the two others had caught up to them and the dog was sniffing though obviously having no luck finding anything. Sara sighed and dropped down to the grass to start her search just as a vehicle pulled up from the outside, delivering even more men to mess up the scene.

 

It was two hours before they returned to her room. The scene was immaculate, the camera had been jammed electronically, but there was no sign that anyone had actually attempted to get in. There were no footprints in the hard, cold ground, and the tire tracks were too faint to take good impressions, though they tried. They were both exhausted and Ian was looking more than a little dispirited. Still, he had slipped away for a moment, when they returned to the command centre they were pretending to share with the Feds to PM the incident. After a certain amount of actual reasonable discussion, they had left.

As they went into her room, she could tell it was weighing on him. Sara understood, but she didn’t know what to say to him. It was taking a hard toll on Ian not to be able to deal with the threat, and she was starting to appreciate just how much his work meant to him. She was used to looking down on him, on any private security people, but enough of what he had gone through with the Black Dragons had started to sink in, too much to be able to completely look at him the same way. Riding back in the car, she had cast a sidelong look at him. She had never seen anything like the way he had pushed himself in their run through the dark, or the professionalism with which he had taken control of the scene. Ian was closed off, focused, and yet she could almost feel the anger and frustration that was bubbling beneath the surface, and there was nothing she could do.

Now Ian sat himself carefully on the sofa in her room without a word or a sound. He didn’t look at her at all, just sat down, took his shoes off, and sat, not comfortably, like it was something he needed to do, but didn’t know how or why. She did notice almost immediately that someone had been in the room. There was a tray with a small snack, and, surprising to her, tea, as well as her favourite coffee. The tea had to be for Ian. In addition, she saw a few other things. When she went into the bathroom, there was a small kit next to the sink, and two black robes hung from the hook on the door. Sara pulled off the shirt he had loaned her and passed it to him, but he merely nodded and sunk back into his study. “Hey Nottingham,” she said, trying to get his attention. He turned to look at her, but his eyes were still far away.

“Look, I know this is getting to you, but it isn’t your fault. You're good at what you do, probably the best I have ever met. You're certainly a hell of a lot better than that lot of yahoos,” she said and realised that she meant it. After all, Nottingham had helped her out, and all that stalking stuff he managed without her noticing. As much as she usually wanted to beat him with a stick, right now it seemed a bit like kicking a starving dog. He looked…haunted was the only way she could think of it.

“I am unaccustomed to failure, it is not what I was trained for,” he said, though he knew he was saying it badly. Ian didn’t know how to explain to her, and he didn’t really want to. Not for the first time, he wished he could run straight to Irons’ room and ask him what to say, what to do. “I am not explaining myself well,” he said sheepishly. He reached out for Irons, but found himself blocked. That was a little startling, but there was probably a reason.

“Maybe you should spend more time trying to speak plain English instead of crypto bs. People might be more inclined to listen.” Sara knew it was harsh and she regretted the words the minute they were out of her mouth. _Great, foot in mouth again, brilliant move, Pezzini,_ she told herself.

“Perhaps, but it is all I have,” he said finally, reaching down to put his shoes back on. It was time to return to his room, to his empty bed, to brood over both his failures this evening.

“Nottingham,” she said, but he continued what he was doing his shoulders slumped just a little. “Ian, you don’t have to go, stay, drink some tea, eat..well, whatever it is, I'm more than willing to trust your cook.”

“Maybe it would be best if...”

“What, so you can sit around and brood? Besides, we talked about this earlier,” she reminded him, obviously reading his intentions as well. “Ian, you’re not Superman, you can’t be perfect, and if you let it get to you, you won’t be any good to anyone. So just stay, we can talk. Tell me about the Black Dragons,” she asked, hoping for the right opening for the conversation she needed to have, or at least time to think.

Now it was Ian’s turn to look thoughtful, or maybe a little unsettled. He turned to the tray, fixed a cup for Sara, and then tea for himself, and tried to figure out what to say. “What do you wish to know?”

“I don’t know, just talk. There is something important there, something you may not even know is important. I’m just hoping it jumps out at us.”

“And how will we know what is important?” he asked, scrambling to sort through his memories to figure out what to say, what he could say without betraying his loyalty to his master or making her thinking less of him.

“Just talk,” she said, trying to sound encouraging as she settled in with her cup, one foot pulled up under her. “Like you’re telling me a story.” Ian tried to hide the panic. It was much easier at a distance where all he had to do was drop in with a hint, a word or two to nudge her in the right direction or to deflect her from pursuing a path that could prove problematic. But here, one on one, where he was under orders not only to interact with her but to help, and to ensure the safety of the only other person who mattered to him, that was a another story. He took a deep breath, relieved that she was no longer staring at him, and began.

“The Black Dragons was an internationally recruited group from the special forces and intelligence community, SEALS, Rangers, we had a couple of men from the SAS, the KSK, the French Intelligence Ministry, even one from Mossad. Mobius was our leader. The first part of the training was fairly straightforward, physical challenges, agility, hand to hand, all to get us accustomed to working and thinking as a team. Then there was the rest, drugs to enhance our skills, our reflexes and speed, our intelligence, to make us better warriors.” He paused for a moment, wondering how to put into words the thoughts chasing themselves around in his head. Sara just sat, listening more patiently than he thought was even possible, but maybe she was tired.

“Drugs supplied by Irons and Vorschlag, and apparently conceived by his pet physician,” she said. “Along with some kind of VR psychological conditioning, I saw the rig,” she reminded him.

“Mr. Irons and Vorschlag were involved, yes, and they developed the equipment, though not the programming. The equipment that Moby had was crude and homemade. He was using it as a drug, not the way it was intended. Odd, since he hated it in training.  No, it was...” he paused for a moment, trying to put it into perspective and tell Sara what she needed to know. “It was meant to bring us closer together, like brothers. It worked, in some ways. We became almost like twins, or working parts of one machine, we could read each others movements as if we were reading each other's minds. But as the training continued, people began to change.”

Sara remembered what Irons had said before, loyal, to each other, psychotic, all but Ian. She wondered what the difference was. Rather then follow _that_ track, she returned to Ian’s story.

“I am not sure how it happened, really. But the training got more intense, and that was where the problems began. We lost two men.” He stopped, as if a wall had come down. Suddenly it was as if he was once more the strange, distant killer that he had been trying to keep hidden around her. She decided not to press; somehow she didn’t _want_ to have to see Ian that way anymore, she just wasn’t sure she wanted to go back. Besides, Sara was starting to realise that, like her, that was his way of hiding, of keeping people at a distance. What had he said, something about isolation and safety?

“And Carter, where did he fit in, besides being still alive?” she said, taking the focus away from whatever memories were trapping him.

“Carter,” Ian spat the name with a venom she was unaccustomed to from him. “He was in charge of the government science team, though he tried very hard to control everything. I know that he disagreed with others on the team.”

“Including Irons?” she asked, trying to get a handle on the dynamics. It was obvious that Irons and Carter were not exactly friends.

“Most especially with him, as the doctor was determined to push the program past the set limits, increase the drugs and add to the psychological programming. I am not sure still that he did not override the safety protocols. It made me wish for Dr. Immo.”

“Ouch, yeah I can see how he would get on the nerves of a saint, and your boss is hardly…” she started but stopped. Insulting Irons wasn't going to help, either. Ian had a deep and slightly disturbing devotion to the man. It wasn't sexual, of that she was almost certain. He'd told her he was interested in her, not something she wanted to think about now, but unlike the rookie, he had decided that she wasn't interested in him, and to let it go. Rather than contemplate that further. "Carter thinks he's smarter than he is. I'm actually surprised Irons didn't suggest you do something."

"I do not know what happened between them, but I am rather surprised that Mr. Irons did not do something himself." Now there was something that Sara had not thought about.


	35. Early Morning Light

Sara woke with a start from one of the strange half dream/half memories that had come with the Witchblade. She took a minute to try to recall some of it, but it was gone. She looked around the shadowed room. They had talked for a while, though she had never gotten around to discussing what she wanted to. Perhaps that would be a conversation better had with his boss around too. But they could deal with that later, right now, she wasn't even awake.

In the dim light she could just barely see the top of Ian’s head where he was sleeping on the couch. The discussion had ended late and she had successfully persuaded him to stay, though now looking at him, maybe she hadn’t done him any favours. Though he seemed to be sleeping the sleep of the exhausted, still there was little that could be done about the fact that he was too tall to be sleeping on the couch. His long legs were over the arm, head propped in the corner facing the door, watchful even in sleep. Something about the way he looked made her want to go over to him, to wake him up and get him to join her. After all it was a really big bed. _Must be the hour, obviously I am going soft in the head, worrying about Nottingham’s comfort_ , she thought. _Well, it was your idea that he stay, and if he wakes up too stiff to move, you are the one that’s going to pay_. As these thoughts were fighting in her sleep deprived brain, some internal signal caused Ian to stir on the couch. Sara closed her eyes and pretended to still be sleeping.

 

Ian rose in the dim light and stretched. The couch had been too short for him but was far from the least comfortable place he had ever slept. Besides, no matter how uncomfortable, it was near Sara. Even now he could hear her gentle, even breathing coming from the bed, though he dared not look. It was enough that she had allowed him to sleep there, near her, and at her suggestion. Thoughts of Sara coupled with a few stretches and he slid into a familiar warm up kata. The movements calmed him, worked the kinks out of his muscles, and allowed him to focus his mind on the task before him rather than the warm figure curled beneath the blankets so tantalisingly near. Perhaps, he thought as he finished his warm up, now would be the appropriate time to report to his master, while she was still asleep. Besides, it was probably best if he got away from her for a time, especially if he brought coffee on his return.

The mansion was almost completely silent as he slipped down the deserted corridor. He could feel the tension easing as he got further from the room and its sleeping occupant. It was easier for Ian to think that way. It was always unwise to confront his master unfocused. He opened the door, startling the occupants, and nodded to Jake and Ashford, the large black agent who had replaced Fredricks. They appeared to be playing a game of cards to keep themselves awake while watching each other and the only door into Irons’ bedroom.  Especially after another hit on the security system, no one was taking chances. Ian knocked and at his master’s command, went straight in. The room was dark and a little over warm to his mind when he entered, but despite the early hour, his employer was sitting up in his chair. Sometimes Ian wondered if he had slept there, but chose not to ask.

Irons felt more than heard Ian enter and take up a quiet position behind the chair opposite, close enough to be seen but not close enough to interrupt. He could feel waves of emotion as the younger man continued what had obviously been a difficult attempt to control what was happening inside. Ian must have come straight from Sara, barely hiding the effect her continued company was having on him, the hormones so thick he could almost taste them on the air. “You spent the night with our fair Sara,” he said suddenly, startling Ian as he was so visibly turned inward, trying to order his thoughts.

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you bed her?” he asked, not completely sure what cruel streak led him to tease the boy. Certainly if anything untoward had happened he would have been aware, he was certain Ian’s shields would shatter like tissue if his reaction to her kisses was any indication. On reflection it was probably cruel to offer his son up as a virgin sacrifice on the alter of need and destiny to the Witchblade, but he had made sacrifices before, knew the pain and the price, and, for the most part, would be willing to do so again, if necessary. And despite everything, it was a sacrifice the boy would make and willingly, eventually, with the right guidance.

“Sir, I would never…” he started, having found his tongue, but he trailed off again hopelessly at the hooded look from his father and tried to organise his thought better. “I am not worthy,” he said finally, looking back at his feet, his voice quiet.

For a moment Kenneth was furious with himself. He had brought up his son to be the best, the most skilled and intelligent, but he had also instilled in him the control and the respect for the new Wielder as his personal Goddess that led him to that statement. Sara was supposed to be his own personal Guinevere and he, Galahad, and now he was expecting him to turn around at the smallest command, no longer Galahad but Lancelot. At least it was Sara, the only woman he had known to ever get a reaction from the young man at all, in spite of those who had tried. It was a paradigm shift, but he was starting to see the hand of the ‘blade in these designs. Kenneth had always considered it as a remote possibility, while trying desperately not to think about them together or to remember what it had been to be with Elizabeth. The similarities were too close and too painful.

“More worthy certainly than any of the others she has chosen for her favour. The young Irishman…” he suggested, trailing off. He wondered exactly when he should tell Ian that if the situation arose...perhaps later. For a moment he recalled the voyeuristic dreams they had shared with the Wielder when she had met the singer.

“It was memory, she loved him once,” Ian said and then closed his mouth, obviously startled by his own boldness. Irons looked at him, one eyebrow raised until he returned his gaze to his shoes.

“He would have betrayed her again, it is in his nature, and she would not thank you for killing him in her name, or to avenge her honour. He will not longer be our problem though.”

“Sir?” Ian asked, one word with such a wealth of meaning, so many questions.

“Conchobar has returned to the land of his birth and soon he shall meet the ancestors he sings of in person.” Ian’s eyes met his with a barely suppressed eagerness that almost made him laugh. _Yes, he is caught completely in her spell, it would seem there is no turning back,_ he thought filing the information for later. “His brother has a taste for blowing up policemen. They took it personally and Irish politics is still very much a matter for clan justice.” Ian nodded curtly, but Kenneth could almost feel the cold blooded pleasure at his rival’s departure, even while Ian would not acknowledge that was what it was. “I do not believe that Sara needs to be made aware of the situation. Better if she just forgets about him altogether,” he said, concluding that topic. “Now, what has brought you here so early?”

 

Sara watched the door close from behind lowered lids and tried to think about getting some more sleep. “You think he’s hot, don’t you?” The voice of her late, and at the moment a little less lamented than usual, partner made her open her eyes.

“Who?”

“I didn’t see any piercings or tattoos and I doubt he plays the drums, but Nottingham definitely more than fills your bad boy requirements. And don’t tell me you weren’t looking.”

“I wasn’t,” she said, realising that she sounded like a teenager who was being told she liked a boy. “I was just appreciating his skills.”

“Skills, huh, that isn’t all you were appreciating, if that is what you call that these days.”

“Look, Danny, Nottingham is nothing, just Irons'…I don’t even know _what_ he is. He just does what Irons tells him to do.”

“He is more than that, so much more, some things that have nothing to do with Irons, or almost nothing, and you need to learn that,” Danny said, almost as an afterthought. "Actually, you already are, you are beginning to see who he really is."

“Listen, Danny, I haven’t gotten enough sleep, had a shower, or my coffee. If you are going to be all wise Asian master on me, it better be kindergarten crypto for dummies here.”

“Trust Nottingham, and trust the ‘blade, is that clear enough for you?” He looked at her, his face so full of sadness she almost wanted to cry. She thought about reaching out to him, but held back, realising that it would only hurt them both more when she couldn’t.

“Yeah, not bad, by the time this case is over, you and Ian might even be able to get out one coherent sentence between you. Anything else?”

“Carter is a snake, more dangerous when you can’t see him than when you can. Be very careful. Talk to Irons first, you need to know the right questions to ask. Of course, the answers you get from the doctor are _not_ in what he says. His words are poison, the truth is in the silence.”

“Thanks, that is exactly what I have come to expect from you, Danny. Too much before coffee, you think you could stick around long enough…” but as she turned, he had already disappeared.

 

Sara had managed to doze off after Danny's visit, but she awoke as Ian slipped back into the room, with a tray of coffee. "Nottingham, if you keep this up, we may actually get through this okay," she told him with a smile. "Though you will have me completely spoiled."

"Thank you," he said, considering whether volunteering to make coffee for her once she returned home would please or anger her. "I should go back..."

"Are the rest of the unwanted guests out and about?" she asked, sitting up cross legged on the bed, accepting the cup he handed her.

"If you are asking about people who are taking an unnatural interest in our supposed relationship, then quite possibly," he answered.

"In that case, you should stay here. You have a kit in the bathroom, might as well use it."

"Sara, I..."

"Toss me that robe, just in case, and I promise not to peek. Don't worry, Nottingham, your virtue is perfectly safe with me, especially before I've finished my coffee," she teased.

 _What if I don't want it to be?_ he thought, careful to keep those thoughts strictly to himself. He handed her the robe, one of his that he had loaned her before that she seemed to like, and went to remove clean clothes from the side of the dresser Sara was not using. Wilson had successfully managed to leave them under cover of tea and tending the fires last night, and he was exceptionally grateful to the old man, who had neither asked questions, nor needed direction. After all, he'd been with the household since before Ian was born. He took himself off to the shower while Sara was occupied with her coffee. She just nodded as he went past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a little more of the story. For those who are reading this for the second time, we are passing out of what I had written before and into the realm of the new. Please do that thing...


	36. Perceptions

"Agent....Ashford is it?" Kenneth Irons asked, emerging from his room. "Would you please ask Nottingham and Detective Pezzini to join me for breakfast in about an hour? We have things to discuss."

"I don't..." the man started.

"Come now, everyone knows where Sara is staying in this house. I should think I will be safe enough while you go across the hall." With the last word, the man went back into his room, closing the door with the certainty that his orders would be followed. Behind his closed door, he smiled. Wilson and Ian had both informed him of the changes, and he was certain that this would not only cement their relationship in the eyes of his uninvited guests, but strengthen the alliance between the two of them, united against a common enemy. Having set that in motion, he turned to consider his wardrobe for the day.

 

Ashford left the room with a shrug at Jake. The man was right. Not that the extra security on him was really necessarily. Privately, his boss had told him that part of it was making sure Irons didn't slip away. Foster was absolutely certain there was at least one, if not more, secret exits to the house. Nottingham was too good not to have a back up plan, probably several, but no one had found it. Not that the guys who were off duty hadn't been looking as best they could, partially hampered by the need to do it without being seen by Irons' staff, and by the fact that the plans they had been able to acquire seemed to be out of date or incomplete, possibly deliberately so.  Then there was the sprawling mansion itself, and the extensive grounds.

He knocked on the door, wondering exactly how he was supposed to get ahold of Nottingham, unless the detective knew where he was. That was another thing no one knew that was making Foster nuts, no one knew where the head of security slept. He lived in, that they knew, and he had been spending his off time with the police detective who was apparently his girlfriend, but aside from Pezzini's room, no one knew where he was when he was off duty, or where the two of them went when not working, for that matter, probably to escape all the noses in their business. Not that several hadn't tried to follow him.

When the door opened, one question was answered. "Oh, er, Nottingham, your boss wanted me to tell Detective Pezzini to join him for breakfast. You too," Ashford told him, trying to hide his embarrassment. He knew some of the guys, possibly at Foster's instigation, had been watching the couple, but he found it juvenile. From what he could see, the two of them were nothing but professional when they were working, maybe a little closer than was necessary, but they worked well together, almost like a team, more so than with her rookie partner, who the agent thought seemed just a little off.

"Very well, I will tell her when she gets out of..." As he was saying it, another door opened and the detective appeared, wearing a black bathrobe that was clearly made for a bigger frame than her's.

"Ask me what? What's up?" she asked, scowling at the man.

"Mr. Irons would like us to join him for breakfast this morning," the big man said with a soft smile at the petite woman.

Small, yes, but Ashford knew not harmless. He had not been present for the fight, but everyone had agreed that Fredricks, who was well known for his 'bad cop' role, had gotten what he asked for, and deserved.  There was a quiet rumour that Foster had put him up to it to see what would happen. "I'll just go and tell him," the agent said, backing up.

"You do that," Nottingham said, shutting the door on him.

 

It wasn't easy, sitting in the library with Irons, Ian, Jake, and Michaels. At breakfast, she was informed that a car had been sent to bring Miss Leighton into their little armed camp, and she was to stay for the duration, a development that the petite blond didn't seem particularly happy about when she arrived. _But then who was?_ Sara reflected. She had been informed that the woman would be taking the room opposite to Sara. No one liked the situation,not her, Jake, or Ian, even Irons, who hid his feelings frighteningly well. That and the fact that they were all reaching a level of cabin fever. She needed to talk to Ian and Irons both privately, but she didn't want to disrupt the schedule and build up any more resentment.

Breakfast had been attended by the two of them, with the two men on duty watching (and drooling no doubt), meaning no privacy at all. Jake was just about to go off duty and Ian was getting ready to begin... well whatever it was that they did. Right now he was waiting for Irons to finish signing some things that Miss Leighton had brought with her when she arrived, refusing the offer of her boss to join them for breakfast, but rather getting herself settled for the work day.

Ian had also announced his intention that he and Irons spar together, something they did fairly regularly, but this would be the first time she had been in a position to observe it. It was slightly hard to picture Irons sweating on the mat. On the other hand, she had seen how easily he handled that pistol she hadn't been aware of in the car, she had seen him swimming laps, and she knew for a fact he ran when he could. Whatever else Kenneth Irons was, he wasn't the sort who kept in shape with surgery and expensive trainers, and the man was in shape. It confused her to tell the truth, but what did anyone know about Kenneth Irons, really? She had asked Danny, and even got as far as asking Gabriel to poke around his hacker buddies, to see if anyone knew anything, but even Gabriel's friends weren't willing to peer behind the curtain, even though she offered to intercede with Nottingham. Since she was not needed right now, Sara decided to slip down and try to see if they were missing something, again. _By the time this is over, I'm going to have the damn thing memorised_.

 

Afternoon arrived and Sara came up from the depths of the house where she had been looking over the information again to see what was happening. Besides, she was bored, frustrated, and needed to stretch her legs. Sara also kind of wanted to be present for the training. She entered the main room, her progress followed by everyone but Irons, who was just handing things off to Miss Leighton, with a quiet conference over whether or not more needed to be done. With that finished, Irons rose. "Sara, come to accompanying me?" he said with half a smile.

"I'm not on duty, but yes, sure. You know I like watching Ian work," she said evenly, causing Michaels to avoid looking at anyone or anything. Ian managed not to blush, just barely, making a quick comment about needing to get changed. Irons dismissed him, saying Sara could stand in for him, and the entire group, without Miss Leighton, of course, set off. In the hall she passed the rookie, probably just up from sleeping, and looking to see where she was. After finding out what was going on, Jake decided to join them. She wondered if he was hoping to get some pointers for when, not if, he and Nottingham came to blows. So far it was mostly verbal, but she wanted to keep it that way.

When they arrived in the gym, Sara peeled off to talk to Ian where he was preparing, having already changed clothes, while Irons went on into the dressing room. "So, Ian, what's with the attention?" Sara asked quietly as the two of them stood together.

"What do you mean, Sara?" he asked. Something in his tone made her certain that there was definitely some point to the exercise.

"You and Irons have had sessions every other day, but you've been quiet about them. This time, it's more like that fight I had with Fredericks. It's like everyone has found out and is here to watch, except Miss Leighton, who's probably taking the time to make herself at home, and a couple of your people, who've probably seen it before." She was looking closely at him.

Ian looked around, establishing that no one was within hearing distance. "They need to know that he is capable of defending himself if necessary. If something..." He stopped and Sara's hand flew up, brushing his cheek, turning him to face her.

"Ian..." she said. "What do you know?" She tried to push away the thought of how much she sounded like Irons the other day in the car. There was something, a niggle, but nothing she could quite put her finger on, still after the revelations of last night about their connection, it wasn't surprising.

"Nothing," he told her. Realising that she didn't believe him, he expanded a little. "Just a feeling."

Sara continued to look at him, but accepted it. Instincts she understand, especially now, but she resolved to keep an eye on him. They heard the door open and to cover, Sara leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. "Don't go easy on him," she said, this loud enough to be heard.

There was a polite laugh from Irons. "He never is, you know that, Sara. But perhaps he will let you take a turn this time."

"Nah, I keep offering, but we all know I wouldn't stop," she gave as good as she got.

"Perhaps next time, Sara," Ian said with a smile as if the idea amused him, or as if this was normal banter between them. But when he turned to Irons, he was all business.

After about five minutes, Sara was pretty certain the point had been made. Agent Foster, the head of the federal contingent, who had generally been making himself scarce since he'd been snubbed in the beginning, had come down to watch as well. He tried to hide it, but Sara could tell he was impressed. She certainly was, though she definitely hid it. She knew as well as anyone that Irons was in good shape. More than once over the past couple of days, she'd been on assignment when he took his laps in the pool, which he did, everyday, like clockwork, meaning that she knew more about the man's physique that she wanted to. He was handsome enough, or would be if she didn't spend half her time wanting to knock his smile down his throat. _Only half the time? Damn, he_ is _growing on me. Like a fungus_.

"Faster," Ian said. On the mat opposite, for once she saw him, not with the weird deferential attitude with which he usually treated Irons, even when in his element. Ian was confident and completely in control. The other thing that surprised her was the no holds barred sparring they were engaging in. This was nothing like some kind of formal kickboxing workout. Honestly, it was beautiful, in a deadly sort of way. For a moment she thought about how much she would have loved to see Danny joining in with them, but she pushed that away angrily.

They called a halt after an hour and, while she wasn't on duty, Sara followed Irons out, telling Ian that she would take over while he got showered. "Wouldn't have thought he had it in him," Ashford, one of the least offensive of the Feds, commented.

"Oh, they do it all the time," Benson from Ian's team commented as the two men left the gym behind them. "And Nottingham doesn't go easy on him, whatever you might think. They occasionally manage to do one another an injury, usually small stuff, bumps and bruises, though I remember Irons give him a black eye once, and Ian split his lip for him another time." The agent looked at him, clearly surprised.

In Irons' quarters, the man continued on into the inner room to shower and change, while Sara grabbed her favourite chair and considered whether to tell Ian she would go on early. She'd sent Jake downstairs to run some contacts of his own, apparently he had an old girlfriend in DC, and she was feeling a little restless. Not that she _wanted_ to spend more time than she had to with Irons, but...well, she needed to find time to talk to him, and to Ian. Danny's words came to her, and she had to figure out a way to talk to the two of them. _You can speak to me, as you did to him_...Ian's words from last night came to her.

 _Ian?_ she asked carefully, trying to picture him the way she did with Irons before.

 _Sara?_ His response was soft, almost gentle.

_Need to talk, you, me and Irons. Privately. Ideas?_

_Dinner?_ his response. As she heard his whisper, Irons came out of the bedroom changed. He paused for a moment, then looked at her, and somehow she knew that he knew. "Detective," he said. "I would like to talk to you and Ian as well, when he's returned. Will you join us for dinner?"

"I've got to eat, and he's turning over to me anyway, why not," she agreed easily with a shrug.

"We can take our meal in the office if it makes you both feel more comfortable," the man said, referring to the small office downstairs off the main room. It was deep enough inside the house, with no external doors or windows, and outside of the main security command and control centre and his bedroom, the most secure room in the house, not to mention sound proofed and private. She looked over at her federal counterpart.

Michaels looked back and shrugged. "Room's practically impregnable, I'll be outside, and both of you in, it would take an army. I think it's safe enough."

"Excellent," Irons said. When Ian returned to take her place, she slipped back to her room to think. She needed all her arguments in order before she faced the two of them at dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And a little more. Please enjoy.


	37. Secrets and Plots

Dinner was turning out exactly as uncomfortable as she expected. It wasn't a conversation she wanted to have, ever, but she knew it was the right thing to do, and she was only hoping that she could count on Irons to back her up on this. He hated Carter as much as Ian did, but he had the advantage of knowing the man better. “About tomorrow," she started, as the two of them were settling in to eat...well, she wasn't entirely sure what it was, but it was good. Two pairs of eyes met hers. "I think that Dr. Carter knows more than he is telling,” she started.

“I am sure he does, he hordes information the way a squirrel hoards nuts,” Irons said.

“Yeah, a secret squirrel with an MD and federal connections, just what the world needs. Unfortunately we need some of that info. I think I need to go talk to him.” That was met with silence.

“Very well, we will go tomorrow, I am sure the schedule can be…” Ian began after a moment's consideration.

“I think it would be best if I went alone,” Sara said, not looking at him, instead she looked at Irons and hoped he would help her. She knew Nottingham wasn’t going to like it.  She tried to tell herself she didn’t care but she knew that ship had sailed already, whether she liked it or not.

“I don’t think that is a good idea,” the younger man said quietly.

“No, it isn’t, but it’s the best I’ve got. You and he obviously have issues so there is no way that he is going to tell me shit with you around, and allowing him in the house would look suspicious, not to mention I don't trust either of you not to drop him down the nearest convenient well. Hell, for all I know there is a disused dungeon around here somewhere. Look, I know he is going to make a lot of snide comments, try to turn me against you, Ian."

"What are you thinking, Sara?" Irons finally entered the conversation. His voice was mild, a bit too mild.

"I'm thinking that he's already taken a run at me over Ian. He doesn't know anything about how you and I are connected, so I expect him to try to find out how much you have told me, maybe try to convince me to come over to their side," she said. Irons nodded, but Ian was still looking like he thought his world was ending. "Ian, he's going to say things about you, you know that, I know that, so I’m prepared. No matter what he says, I know what kind of sleaze he is. The point is, he isn’t going to talk with you there. He’s not even half as smart as he thinks he is, and he is arrogant enough to think he can put one over on a cop and a woman.”

"He certainly has more ego than he has intelligence," Irons added. "I never thought he had a good grasp of the project in the first place. Carter is expert at managing to put himself into places and then, if the project succeeds, he takes the credit for other's work. Remember that when you confront him, Sara. I would call the man a snake if it weren't an insult to the reptile kingdom. But he's an ambush predator, he prefers to strike from cover."

Hearing him reflect Danny's words made Sara wonder all the more about the various connections, but now was not the time for that. _One crisis at a time_ , she thought.

“We could find him and beat it out of him?” Ian suggested only slightly facetiously, but Sara knew what he was thinking and she shook her head. Even Irons was smiling, probably wanting a few shots of his own.“I will even let you do the beating.”

“It would be fun, but this is probably better,” she said, though she smiled at him. Ian didn’t smile back. “I’ll be careful, and take anything he says about you with a few tons of salt, either of you," she conceded reluctantly.  

"Thank you, Sara," Irons said, and for the first time she thought he actually sounded sincere.  The resigned but grateful look in Ian's eyes told her all she needed to know about him too.

“Now, what we need is to sort whether or not we should bring Immo into the house, lock him down too. Maybe tell them you have a condition?' she asked, looking at Irons. The man gave her a politely disbelieving look. "No, that would go back to that whole showing weakness thing. How about we need a doctor in case of emergency? If I have to take down another one of those Feds, this one is going to need a good doctor.”

 

The discussion over her visit to Carter had been long and drawn out. While she had gotten them to agree in principal, the details had taken longer. The man obviously gave Ian a world class case of the heebs, something that Sara would have considered impossible before this, and Irons...well, Irons' reaction to him was something else entirely. It made her all the more cautious about bearding him in his lair. They had finished dinner and had a plan when Sara felt a little tingle and for a moment she was looking at the door to the room she was currently occupying. Looked across the table, she could see it, what Ian had talked about. The alertness. They might not know what she'd seen, but they definitely knew she'd seen something.

"Sara?" Irons asked.

"I need to go back to my room. I think that trap might be ready to catch a rat," she said. The men nodded, and she rose and opened the door.

"Ian, will you stay here for me? I need to get something from my room," she said as she came out from the office.

"You may catch us up upstairs," Irons said from inside the office. "I've a few things to look at and then I will have my swim."

She took off as fast as she could without it looked too suspicious, but as she looked up, she could see O'Connell in the corner of the balcony, his tablet in front of him, watching something very intently. Hurrying up to her room, she realised that walking around Irons' overgrown museum was at least plenty of exercise. They still needed a concrete plan for bringing the man's pet Frankenstein into the house without it looking too suspicious as well, but that was for later. Irons would keep his pride intact.

Maybe she should ask Ian where his room was. After all, she should know. Sara suspected it was down near the main security command and control centre. She had been shown the main ops centre when Ian took her on the grand tour, (she wasn't entirely sure Irons knew that part) but she was absolutely certain none of them wanted them agents near it. That had not been on their tour. Even Jake didn't know.

As she came around the corner, she saw one of the Feds at the door of her room, just as she suspected. _Gotcha_ , she thought


	38. Handling

"Detective," the man turned, startled. She recognised him, Coleman. He'd not been a problem so far, actually he'd been one of the quiet ones. She'd put him down as not bad, but short on personality. Clearly that was camouflage. "I...I was looking for you, Agent Foster would like a word..."

"And that's why I found you coming out my door? Foster has the schedule, and half the house knows I was having dinner with Ian and his boss, which means he knows I'm just about to go on with Irons. Besides which, I have a radio, there are house phones, and any number of other ways to get in touch. Now..."

"Sara?" She heard Irons' voice from behind her. _Gang's all here, showtime_ , she thought. _Just in time, too_. Irons was followed by Ian, and another agent, the one that had replaced Michaels, probably before they left the main room, whose name she didn't remember. "Is there a problem?"

"Depends on what you consider a problem. I don't like finding someone poking around my room." Ian started forward, only stopped when Irons grabbed his arm, from the look on his face, not something anyone else would necessarily be willing to try, and fewer would have succeeded. Even though they had planned this, still he had to act normal.

"I was looking for the detective. Foster would like..."

"Good, I would like a word with him as well," Irons said, his face a blank masque. "Have him join us. Sara?" After making sure he was moving along, she turned.

"Would you be good enough to knock on Miss Leighton's door? I would like her as well."

Sara did as she had been asked. She'd seen the assistant excuse herself when they had come into the office for dinner, and considering how early her day had to have started, she wouldn't be surprised to find her already in for the night. When Sara knocked, she opened the door, though she seemed to have only settled enough to have got rid of her jacket and take off her heels, but she agreed to come along directly.

Sara knocked and was admitted into the sitting room, as far as anyone but Ian got, at least as far as she knew. As she passed, Ian brushed her hand, a small gesture, intimate and reassuring. It was the sort of thing that was expected of two private people, the sort of thing she was getting used to accepting from him. There were times when it would have annoyed her, but right now it was just what she needed.

A few minutes later, there was a knock, and Miss Leighton joined them, followed by O'Connell, who went straight to Irons, to show him something on the tablet. Irons nodded and dismissed him, while his assistant looked around and seated herself at a small writing desk near to his chair.

They said nothing else. Sara tried to looked relaxed, and probably failed. Ian was not even trying to hide his anger, appearing exactly as angry as he should have been about someone poking into his girlfriend's room without permission. Only Irons looked his usual imperturbable self, but under it, she could see something else, something she didn't care to look to closely at.

After what seemed like forever, but was probably only five minutes, there was a knock and Agent Foster came in, accompanied by Coleman. "Irons, what's the meaning of this? I sent Coleman here to get Pezzini and next thing I know I'm being summoned like some kind of lackey. I don't..."

"And did your orders include entering Sara's room without her permissions?" Ian asked. "Because she found him in her doorway. I won't..."

"Ian," Irons said. "Enough."

"Begging your pardon, no sir, it's _not_. Sara could have been in the shower, or changing, not to mention entering our private quarters without leave."

"Well, Foster, which is it? Was your man under orders, or shall I have Ian put him out as a potential peeping tom?" he asked coolly. Miss Leighton, who had been taking notes, turned in her chair and handed the pad to Irons. He nodded once, and passed it to Ian. "You know the cameras in the upper hallway only cover the ends of the corridor. I like my guests to have a measure of privacy. However, I am certain that Ian, or rather one of his staff, could check them for your men coming and going when they are not supposed to be."

"I...It was nothing, just checking to see the arrangements. There was nothing untoward intended," the senior agent sputtered, knowing he was caught.

"I think my 'arrangements' are none of your concern," Ian growled dangerously.

"Good," Irons said, ignoring the man in black. "We have an understanding. We are done here." Irons rose, signalling dismissal and Foster and Coleman headed for the door.

"Oh, Agent Foster, next time one of your men strays, or I have the slightest hint that either my assistant or the detective's things have been searched, I will have Ian physically remove you from this house. I might not even be too upset if he fails to open the door first." With that, he turned and went into the inner room and shut the door with a decisive *click*.

 _Well, that worked_ , Sara thought at Ian. He smiled. "Why don't I stay here and let you see if anything has been disturbed?" he suggested.

"Good idea." She brushed her hand against him in passing and left the room, the young assistant on her heels.

"You knew that was going to happen," the woman said to her, when they were in the corridor.

"Knew, no. But we suspected they would try something. Sorry about that," Sara said.

"It's all right, Mr. Irons warned me this morning. How long is this going to go on?"

"I wish I knew," Sara told her as they parted to their separate doors. "I wish I knew."

Irons had not come out when Sara returned, so she pulled Ian into the hall. "Is everything all right?" he asked.

"About what you'd expect, it was a pretty professional job, it would take another professional to see it. Listen Ian, I've been thinking..."

"Yes?" he asked. She pulled him closer, not knowing who was watching.

"Why don't you stay in my room tonight?" she suggested.

"I could, but..."

"Ian, it's a very big bed, and I think we are both adults. As long as there's room for me when I get off shift...It's a lot bigger than the couch and more comfortable."

"But, Sara..." he objected, though he was trying to keep those quiet, in case they were being observed.

"Just to sleep, Nottingham, don't get any ideas. If you get fresh..." She was teasing and it probably wasn't fair, but she needed to get him to relax.

"I wouldn't think of it," he said solemnly, his voice low near her ear. Somehow, despite the current closeness, she believed him. After all, he hadn't done anything so far.

"All right then," she said, kissing him, before letting go just in time for the door to open and Irons to come out ready for his evening swim. "I'll see you when I get off."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And a little more story.


	39. Escape

Ian awoke to the sound of the door. His eyes snapped open, but he knew who it was, Sara. After the earlier incident, he rather doubted anyone else would try anything. He had found it surprisingly easy to do as she asked, to sleep here. Of course, it was only because it gave him a chance to further exert his supposed claim to Sara, one of the federal agents had tried to follow him as he slipped downstairs and the man had followed him up to the corridor.

Still, once he had been alone in the room, he had a little trouble focusing. He'd removed his sidearm, putting it on the nightstand opposite the side of the bed she had claimed, just as she did, then slipped his knives into the drawer, except the one he left in his boot and the one that went under the pillow on 'his' side. Then he'd gone for a quick, cold shower.

Once, he'd finished, changed into his pyjama bottoms, and a tank top, he stood looking at the bed. It was big and as Sara said, they were both adults and should have no problems controlling themselves. Except...except that he had never been asked to share a bed, innocent or otherwise, since he had crawled into his father's bed as a small child when he would have a nightmare. Except that he had never had any sort of feeling about any other woman, and certainly not feelings like this. Except that Sara had next to no feelings for him, not in that way, certainly, not as a man. Except that it didn't matter, he couldn't, regardless of what he wanted.

However after a great deal of mental wrangling, he had taken himself back to his side of the bed and slid between the sheets. After that it had been harder. He could smell Sara's scent on the pillows and it took very little to imagine her sleeping there beside him. Eventually, though, he had drifted off to sleep and into a dream/memory, one that was none too clear.

He pretended to sleep as she slipped into the room. He heard her grab something and slip into the bathroom, presumably to change, while he practiced every relaxation technique he had ever learned, clamped down on the link with his father, and prayed that the man was sleeping. This was something he had no desire to share and less to explain. He would not lie, it was not in him to lie to his master, but he would do everything he could to avoid the subject, and he had no intention of volunteering either.

Sara emerged from the bathroom wearing a pair of NYPD athletic shorts and a venerable (probably from her students days) tee shirt from John Jay, the lettering peeling in places. She came acrosss the floor, put her holster on the nightstand as he had done, and slipped into the bed, which suddenly seemed to have shrunk until it was barely big enough even for her small form. Still playing at sleep, he rolled over. Perhaps it would be easier if he couldn't see her. It was taking everything in him to stay where he was, neither to reach for her, nor to flee to his father, as he always had when he was unsure. But even as he thought about it, he could not, not without explaining what had brought the circumstance about, and some things he could never explain.

 

“Need to get the keys from Jake,” Sara said to Ian, as she grabbed her jacket. She had agreed to wait until Ian finished his morning of whatever it was he did involving Irons running his business empire. Surveillance inside the mansion cum fortress, direct and personal, seemed overkill but the feds insisted on direct observation and Nottingham certainly wasn’t going to leave them unwatched. When it was pointed out that it wasn’t necessary for him to do it himself, he reminded them that it allowed him an opportunity to deal with his own work at the same time. Coordinating security for Irons’ vast empire was actually a great deal of work and in most places the jobs he handled himself would have been done by at least two men. But Ian had finished and left them to it, and was watching Sara get ready for her confrontation with Carter.

“Would you prefer something a little…better?” Ian asked cautiously, and she could see that he was concerned that she would reject his offer out of hand.

“What do you have in mind?” Sara asked him.

“Let me show you,” he said, and offered her his hand as he led the way through the house. Sara was getting better, but there always seemed to be more to learn. She wondered if he would give her a map if she asked.

They emerged behind the house, passing the sentry on the door, one of Ian’s security people along with an ubiquitous fed. He greeted them both with a smile and what Sara assumed was a hello, lost in an accent so thick Sara wasn’t certain he was speaking English. Ian returned it, also not in English, and there was a brief exchange of pleasantries before they both returned to English, and introductions were made. Sara tried his last name, twice, before he told her just to call him Nikolai, as everyone did. The fed introduced himself as Morgan Roberts and made an effort to at least be pleasant. She was pretty sure that pained look was supposed to be a smile anyway, and not gas. Then Ian led her off toward the garage. She wasn’t sure if Ian was going to offer her one of his boss's expensive toys, which she could easily refuse, or possibly his own black sedan which had the advantage of heat that worked, not always a guarantee on a city vehicle. But inside the garage she was brought up short. Beside the usual black and grey sedans, a limousine, and some absolutely gorgeous, especially the vintage ones, cars, were several motorcycles. “Is that…?” she asked reverently as she approached the Vincent carefully.

“Yes, the only one in the world that I am aware of that still has all its original parts.”

“Wow, that’s some kind of find.”

“Not a find, actually it’s been Mr. Irons’ since it was made.”

“His? I’m a little surprised, just doesn’t seem like…” She stopped, once again jumping to conclusions. “It’s beautiful, a real work of art.”

“It is, and you might ask him to ride it another time, but for now, I thought you might wish to borrow my BMW. You will be faster, and more manoeuvrable on the road with the bike, and I have no doubt you can even better elude any pursuit.”

“Yeah, and I wouldn’t put it past the feds to have me tailed.”

“Or our opponents, I wish you had someone with you, if not me…” he said and she could see his concern, and how much it was costing him to agree with her.

“Tell you what,” Sara said, for once not irritated by his expressed concern, maybe understanding a little. “Get me a two way, private channel, if there’s trouble, I’ll shout.”

“Gladly, though with…” he started, looked down and stopped.

“Yes, but I need the tech, you know…”

“Always best to have more than one means,” he said. Neither of them voiced the other though, that if she needed him, it had to be plausible. They weren’t going to discuss the other, more supernatural solution anywhere outside the few private places they were sure of, and swept for bugs daily. They had already found another one, this time in Irons’ office, though they didn't bother to confront Foster with this one. Instead, Ian directed her where to find a helmet and went to retrieve the equipment. When she was geared up, Ian climbed onto the big bike with her behind him for the short ride to the small back service gate that few people knew about. One of the agents was on duty, but by the time he reported she was gone, they would have a hell of a time getting anyone on her. Ian smiled as she grabbed his coat and pulled him down for a kiss before slamming down her face plate and taking off like a bat out of hell, with the gate only just open.

“Close the gate,” Ian ordered, his face aglow with pleasure as he headed towards the main house.

Once off the small feeder road, Sara opened the big bike up slowly, getting a feel for it. It responded immediately and she enjoyed the thrill of pure adrenaline, just the clean sensation of speed, not the kind of up and down she had been experiencing. It was good to be free, the mansion was huge but at the same time it was starting to feel claustrophobic or maybe it was just the company. Nottingham had actually proved much better than she expected and Irons, well he still irritated her pretty regularly but she could tell that he was restless as well. On the other hand, Foster and his crew were getting on her last nerve. Some of them were okay but the rest, well after her set to with Fredricks, they were less overtly hostile, and she had seen a flash of respect from a few when she and Ian had passed through their command centre. But the tension was making everyone twitch.

Looking up, Sara saw the familiar Manhattan skyline. She took a deep breath and set the bike on the bridge. Now all she had to do was get some answers out of Carter without beating them out of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more now. Actually I'm almost caught up to the stuff I've done.


	40. Confrontation

With Sara away and him not due to relieve the annoying blond surf boy for a little while, Ian was deciding what to do. There was a ridiculously large pile of background reports on the staff and liaisons for the auto arrestor project, distribution lists for test results and other information that he had been waiting for and then had no time to devote to. It wasn't only to reduce his worry with Sara away, but it _was_ dull enough not to add to his case of nerves.

This morning, he'd woken at his usual hour to the entirely new sensation of Sara cuddled up against him. Apparently at some point in his sleep he had rolled over and ended with his front pressed to her back, one arm thrown protectively over her. His first thought, of course, had been to pull back sharply and flee, but that, he told himself, would most definitely wake her and her wrath. Instead, he had allowed himself to enjoy the feel of her for a few moments, revelling in the closeness. Then he'd removed himself carefully as if from a live mine, and gone for a long, cold shower, something else he'd never felt the need for, all while holding his shields with the desperation of a drowning man.

When he'd finished and dressed, he'd returned to the bedroom to see Sara looking at him. "Ian," she said, but there was no anger or resentment. He decided she had merely been awakened and was reassuring herself.

"Yes, Sara, get some more sleep. You need not be up yet," Ian told her. "I will bring you coffee when you do."

"This is why I'm between you and Jake, only you to have to deal with me before coffee," she said a little vaguely. He was almost certain she wasn't quite awake yet.

"I deal with you in the morning _by_ bringing you coffee," he told her.

"Smart man." Then she'd rolled over and gone back to sleep. He had attended his tasks as usual, keeping his thoughts firmly on work. When he had brought coffee, Sara smiled at him. "All right?" she asked.

"Yes, a good night's sleep," he told her. In fact, they had kept things extremely light, considering what she'd been about to do. But she had reassured him once again before they left the room.

"Ian, not paying attention to his bullshit, remember?"

Rather than relive any of the morning further, he went to have a quick word with his master. Irons was in the downstairs office with Miss Leighton, but he waved her away when Ian entered. "She's away, sir," he said quietly.

"Very well," Irons said, but he was looking at Ian oddly. "Ian, are you _well_?"

"Yes, sir, just some concern for Sara. I am going to endeavour to get through some of those files while I have time, with your permission of course." Irons waved him on dismissively, but he was still watching, a slightly puzzled look on his sharp features. Let him believe it was Sara's current mission that disturbed him. He wouldn't be completely wrong.

 

"Hey Nottingham," Jake McCarty said, trying for friendly as he saw the big man exit the office. "Where's Pez?" he asked quietly. Ian thought briefly of blowing him off but there was no reason other than irritation, really.

"Sara went to speak to Dr. Carter," he said, keeping his voice low enough that Jake had to strain to hear him.

"Alone? And you _let_ her?" he squeaked, trying to keep his voice down.

"And how much luck, Det. McCartey, have you ever had forbidding Sara Pezzini from doing anything?" he asked. "I loaned her my motorcycle and am monitoring her on a private channel myself, it is as much as she would allow."

Jake nodded, as much as he hated to admit it, he had to agree with the man in black. No matter how close they were, Sara was never going to let him or anyone else tell her what to do. "Her and your boss. Got that in common, don't they?" Jake said.

Ian smiled. "Yes, though I would refrain from pointing it out, were I you, to either of them."

"Yeah, she'd definitely take my head off, and...just no. You wouldn't..." he asked, suddenly concerned.

"I will agree not to tell, if you do the same."

 

Sara arrived at the nondescript government building in record time and without picking up any inconvenient tails along the way. Still, she stashed the bike at a garage a few blocks away that she knew, where the attendant would keep a good eye on it, and could be trusted implicitly, Sara having gotten him out of an unfortunate situation a couple years ago. If anyone so much as breathed near that bike, she would know everything there was to know. The Feds would know where she was and what she was about soon enough. She took a deep breath and headed into the lion's den, mindful of the two way in her ear and the supernatural passenger that she knew could and would alert Irons, Nottingham and who knew who all else should she require assistance, not to mention its own bloodthirsty agenda.

With that not particularly comforting thought in mind, she stepped through the doors, the man exiting held it for her politely and she took a moment to try to place why the older redhead, who was clearly _not_ a fed, looked familiar to her before dismissing it as paranoia.

The bland faced young man minding the desk looked like he was going to give her a song and dance about who and where and what, but a phone call while he was still stalling had her given reluctant direction and a visitor's pass. He _did_ tell her that should she wander from her path she would be arrested and sent her on her way, fortunately before she said something that everyone would regret. Sara followed the directions to the letter, and resisted the childish urge to stick out her tongue or flip off the cameras.

"Come in, Miss Pezzini, I've been expecting you. May I call you Sara?" Carter said, trying for charming and failing. He was standing behind a large desk that might have been impressive but with him only managed to come across as tacky, with one hand extended to her. Sara ignored it.

 _Lion's den? More like hyena's, with less sense of humour,_  the thought came to her, though she wasn't sure from where. "Neat trick, since no one knew I was coming except Ian and you guys aren't exactly on each other's Christmas card list. And it's Detective Pezzini to you." He tried to look hurt and didn't succeed any better.

"Not specifically today, but I knew sooner or later your curiosity would get the best of you, that or something would happen with Nottingham. _Has_ something happened? Or have you just come to find out about your boyfriend before it does? You have to know how dangerous he is," he said, gesturing for her to sit down as he returned to his seat.

"No." She said, ignoring his invitation. Dr. Carter looked a little stunned at her flat answer, before the look slid behind his oily facade.

"Of course you do. Ian Nottingham is a dangerous psychotic, and a trained killer, just like the rest of his team. He should have been locked away years ago for the safety of everyone around him, at the very least..." he trailed off but suddenly she could see the rest.

 _A room that she had seen before, some kind of lab. "I recommend that Nottingham be destroyed," Carter said.  The person he was talking to was Kenneth Irons._ Now she knew exactly what it was about him, why Irons wanted to strangle him with his own intestines. Sara and the Witchblade managed to hold on, barely. A deep breath and a few thoughts on revenge later, she managed to respond almost calmly.

"No, not that you didn't try to make him that way, but you failed, regardless of whatever little monster making scheme you cooked up with your mad scientist buddies and Vorschlag. Unlike the rest, Ian's just fine, living a normal life, work, home, girlfriend...must really bug you, huh? Wonder what went wrong? Bet you'd like to find out, wouldn't you? Dissect his brain?" She could see that she'd struck a nerve, so she kept going. "But that's _not_ what I'm here about, actually. I want to know anything and everything you've left out. Someone wants Irons and I'm betting they want you as well. Who have you forgotten, deliberately or not?"

"Have you asked Kenneth Irons?"

_Another flash, the same room.  "What is wrong with the reading?  What are we missing?  Why is he not responding the same as the rest?  What are we missing?" Carter was growling at another man, not a scientist, someone in a brown suit that she'd never seen before._

_"I don't know, but if you can find out, then we are in business."_

"Yes, and he has told me everything he can think of."

"I very much doubt that, Irons doesn't share well."

"Maybe not with you, but then he doesn't trust _you_."

"And you think he trusts _you_?" he said, anger clear on his face.

She just shrugged. Did Irons trust her? Probably about as much as he trusted anyone other than Nottingham. Did he trust her more than Carter? Hell, there were probably muggers and paparazzi he trusted more than Carter, liked more too, but she said nothing, just stared at him with a smirk.

"There is nothing else you need to know, and if you refuse to take a friendly warning..."

"From you? No."

"Ian Nottingham was created to be a perfect soldier, just like the rest of his team. Take my word, he will kill without hesitation at the least provocation.  Don't think you're safe, just because you're sleeping with him. He does nothing without orders, so who's giving him his orders _now_?"

"Ian's his own man," she said, before realising she shouldn't have risen to the bait.

"You would like to think so, wouldn't you?  Or are you afraid of the truth, of who is pulling his strings?  I'm actually surprised, I would have thought his tastes..."

"You _really_ shouldn't finish that sentence if you want to keep your body in the same number of parts.  Keep your perverted thoughts to yourself, or is that the only way you get your jollys? I think we both know _who_ is _what_ around here." she said, barely holding it together as she turned. "In fact," she said, as she reached for the door. "When this is over, I would suggest you take a vacation, request a transfer, something, somewhere far away from Ian and me. Next time, I might just look the other way when he's got you by the throat."

"Don't say I didn't warn you, Detective," he said as she closed the door a little too carefully. She'd not gotten the answers she wanted, but she had learned a lot about Carter. Most of it made her wish she'd let Ian kill him when he had the chance.

Sara took a few moments to check in with Nottingham, certain that he and his boss were well aware of her mood. Then she went to collect the bike.

 

"Hey Detective," the attendant called as she stepped into the garage.

"Sammy," she replied, relaxing a little. "How's the bike?"

"Beautiful as when you left, but you were right. Couple guys were canvasing the local garages, looking for her."

"And?" she said, seeing the smile in the young man's eyes. Sammy had been a bit of a troublemaker when he was younger, and while he had managed to steer clear, mostly, of big problems, he wasn't above making a little mischief.

"Talked to a few of my buddies, other attendants in the area. Right now they are sitting on a very similar bike, belongs to a DA actually, about three blocks over, and this baby, well, they gave me a heads up, put her under a cover, told them it was a long termer, hadn't been out in a month."

"Which DA, did he say?" she asked a little cautiously.

"He did say actually, Mc something, McCord, McKinny... something Irish anyway."

"McCoy?" she asked, with a smile.

"Yeah, that's it. Mr. McCoy."

Sara just laughed as she went to fire up the bike. This morning wasn't a total loss, that was for sure. Jack McCoy wasn't a big fan of the feds on a good day. Finding them camping out on his bike would not make him happy, and he would be glad to share his dissatisfaction with them and all of their immediate superiors. She pulled out of the garage, and turned her attention to breaking all the traffic rules to blow off her anger on the way back to the estate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the various people confront...well, you'll see. Please do that thing.


	41. Puzzle

The rear gate came into view a lot faster than she was expecting, but then she had been making some serious time, using speed and the concentration to take her mind off things. Not that she wasn't still pissed and very much interested in making an unpleasant damp spot out of Carter, but at least she was probably not homicidal at the moment. The guard at the back gate opened it immediately for her, one of Ian's hand picked security people, though the Fed on duty with him looked on with a sneer. Ian's voice came over the earbud. "We are in the library," he said without preamble.

"Let me park the bike and drop my things and I'll be there."

“Ahh, detective,” Irons said. He was not in his office this time, but rather in the library on the floor above which opened onto the lower level. She could see the federal counterpart standing in the corner as the three chairs at the table were taken up by him, Ian, and Miss Leighton, pouring over something. “I trust your errand was successful?” he asked.

Errand? she thought, only just catching on to the fact that he was offering her an explanation for her ‘escape’. Of course, Carter would tell the Feds the truth, or would he? Honestly, she actually trusted Nottingham, hell, she trusted Irons more than she trusted Carter. In fact, he was ranking near Dante on her trust scale, and at least with Dante she knew where she stood. But as he said, the game needed to be played. _Damnit, I’m getting as bad as they are_. “I managed to get some of the information I needed, yes,” she told him.

“Good,” he said before turning back to what he was doing. Ian smiled warmly at her and she moved to his side and put a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m going to get cleaned up and find Jake, see what we can put together,” she said softly to him. He nodded and she turned to go.

“I trust that, as you are on duty tonight, you will not mind joining me for dinner with Ian?” Irons asked. “We can make it in the office if it makes you more comfortable.”

“I have to eat, so I’ve no objections,” Sara said, then she left. It was Irons’ way of getting them alone, to find out what Carter said. Despite both he and Ian’s apparent unconcern, she could…well, feel it was not the right word, but knowing what she knew now, the tension was more obvious to her. She looked at Phillips where he was standing trying not to look bored.

“Like you said, you’ve got to eat. I’ll still be on, and the room's practically impregnable. I’ll be outside, you and Nottingham in, it would take an army if they could get that far,” the man said. He was not a bad sort, at least compared to some of the others.

“It’s settled then,” Irons said before continuing whatever it was that he’d been explaining. Sara left and headed for her room. She noticed that her passage was marked and she headed to her room. Refreshed and changed, she headed down to the lower level. It was there that she found she was being followed. It was easier to try it in the service corridors of the house than above, especially after what had been said about straying, but Sara had no intention of leading them to the room that she, Jake, and Ian were using for the investigation.

Instead she took a detour through the kitchen. Sara had learned that ‘Cook’ was Mrs Wilson in her time here, and that the woman was responsible for all the good things that flowed from the kitchen. She had also learned that she preferred to be just 'cook' and that nothing happened in the house without the woman knowing about it, for all that from what Sara could tell, she never left her own domain.

“Detective, there will be coffee for you in just a moment, let me just get it,” the woman said, bustling around.

“You are going to spoil me,” Sara told the woman with a smile.

“Nonsense, just like Mr. Nottingham you are, too caught up with work to eat proper. It’s…Can I help you?” Cook asked, turning to the agent who came in behind her. Caught out, the man looked around as if for a way out. “If you've come for coffee, you can wait as well. Go on through to the staff room, I’ll bring it in when it’s done. Detective, could you pop through that door and ask Wilson to step in.” The woman pointed to another door, but when she looked at Sara, she winked. “Go on, lad, just through there,” she directed the agent with one hand as she dried the other on her apron. With no reason to refuse, the man stepped through the door into the staff room, but he looked back to Sara as she went to the other door. Once he was through though, Cook waved her back. “I will have a fresh pot of coffee for you to take down in a minute. You do go through the coffee.”

“Thanks, Mrs…Cook, I mean,” Sara told her.

“Been keeping the secrets of this house for more than thirty years, not going to change for that lot. Now, you take this pot and get along before he comes back.” Sara smiled, she didn’t need to be told twice. As she went through the door, she felt that sensation again, the one that told her she had heard something important, but didn’t know what it was.

 

As she came upstairs and joined them once more in the library, she had to hand it to Irons. She was taking over just in time for him to finish up. “I’ll have my swim and then we can have dinner,” he said, dismissing his assistant. Miss Leighton nodded and took herself off as the man rose and Sara fell into step behind him.

“At least you were handing over to me,” she said with what she hoped was a reassuring smile. She was trying not to focus, there was something niggling just outside of where she could reach it, and she’d decided that the best way to approach it was to let it come to her.

“I will return for dinner, I am going to do a sweep,” Ian told her, brushing her hand just lightly with his, but she could tell he was still on edge, just as he had been since she returned. Still, there was nothing she could do until they were alone. She just nodded.

 

The three of them sat down to dinner just over an hour later in the small office. It wasn’t the first meal she had with the two men in the small room, and she was almost getting used to it. But before that could worry her more than it already did, Irons addressed her. “So what did Carter have to tell you, Sara?” Irons asked, as he took a sip of the wine that had come with the meal. Sara couldn’t drink on duty so she had coffee, but she noticed that Ian was drinking his usual tea as well, even though he was off. Come to it, she wasn’t certain she had ever seen him drink, but she put that thought aside for later, and looked at her plate.

“Tell me? Nothing,” she said. “But we knew that was going to happen. He offered a lot of vague warnings about you, how dangerous Ian is, not to mention being a general scumbag. He also tried to make some suggestions about Ian’s, and presumably by extension, my, sexual tastes…”. Ian, who had been taking a drink at that precise moment, choked, causing a coughing fit that halted the conversation while he tried to regain control.

“He what…I…I am…” Ian tried between coughs to get something out, as Irons gave him a strong thump on the back.

“Since you made it back, I trust he is still alive,” Irons said. “Pity. Not that I am surprised. Actually I am _only_ surprised that he did not include me in his puerile suggestions.” The comment didn’t help Ian regain his control.

“It was a near thing, but I didn’t let him get that far. I might have threatened him, but I am pretty far down the list of people who want a piece of him, and I’d hate to cut the line,” Sara told them. Irons smirked, while Ian, who had finally regained control, looked only slightly murderous. “As I am sure you know, I’m not the only one who doesn’t like him, though.” She laid her hand on the table, bracelet looking at the moment like nothing but jewellery. Irons’ eyes narrowed and when Sara met them, she had no doubt that he knew what it was she had seen. In that moment, she also knew that it was something that he had not only never told Ian, but didn’t want him to know. But that was something to contemplate later. “But it was in something he didn’t say, not exactly. He said that there was nothing I needed to know, which makes me certain that there is something and I need to figure out what it is. Any idea what it is? I feel like I have the right pieces, I just don’t know how they go together.”

“Well, that sounds like Carter,” Irons said, distracted, thinking. Ian was looking at Sara, as if trying to decide how to react.

“You know you are in no danger from me, Sara,” he whispered as they waited for Irons. Under the table, she reached out and patted his hand. The vision had disturbed her, not only Carter’s suggestion, which made her want to slit his throat for him right then and there, but Irons’ reaction. Now she knew, if not the sources of the conflict, then the source of his anger at the slimy doctor. It wasn’t something she wanted to think too closely about, but it told her something, she just wasn’t sure what. Irons, Nottingham, the other dead Dragons…what did it all mean?

“What makes you different?” Sara asked Ian suddenly. “I mean besides being alive and sane, well, more or less,” she added. Wouldn’t do for them to think she’d gone soft on them. “Maybe it’s time we brought in your doctor. There is something…” She paused. _Bet you’d like to know, dissect his brain, she’d said. Something about the way Carter reacted. The differences…_

“Sara,” Irons began, interrupting her thoughts.

“Hear me out,” she said. “Ian is the only one left. What we need to know is why, and I think that the doctor may have the pieces. I think it is at least partially to do with whatever the man knows. Besides, they haven’t much cared for who they hurt. If they go looking for researchers who have been with you that long, or who were working for you back then, and I am sure they will, if they aren’t already, they are going to find out eventually. The question is, how many others will get killed in the process though?”

It had been a mostly uneventful evening after that. Irons just about agreed with her, but still wanted a good reason to find a way to get the doctor into the house, so they were at an impasse. When they emerged, Irons asked Ian to join him in a game of chess, not an unusual occurrence. Jake, she knew, was engaged in a ‘friendly’ card game with several people, off duty agents, a couple of Ian’s security people, possibly some of the staff, all of them probably watching each other more than the cards. Sara settled in to watch the two of them play.

Her federal counterpart seemed bored, but she found it well worth the watching. They were both exceptionally good, and, much like their training session, she found herself fascinated. It also left her wondering. There was something about their way of interacting that still confused her. She knew Ian had been with Irons since he left service, but there was something very personal about Irons’ anger at Carter, which she could not imagine if he was just another test subject. She tried to remember what the file had said, but it wouldn’t come to her.

“Now you are on the right track, partner,” Danny said. To her credit, she didn’t jump. Ian looked up, eyes narrowing. Irons followed his expression eyes flickering for just a moment, before turning back to the game as if it was nothing. “There are two sets of answers here, and one is the answer to the other. Keep your eyes on Nottingham.  He will lay down his life to protect the two pole stars of his life.”

Before she could even try to formulate a reply, he turned and disappeared through the bronze doors. “Great,” she muttered.

“Sara?” Irons asked, making her realised that she had spoken aloud. “You would make a different move?”

“Just considering,” she answered.

“Of course, since you are bound to be personally biased towards my opponent,” he suggested with a smile. She just shrugged. Once again the man covered for her. _Damn, at this rate, I’m going to owe him a big favour, and I have no doubt he will collect. Assuming we all get through this_.

 

The rest of the shift passed uneventfully. The Feds, who were on a different schedule, changed about time the game finished. The agent who came, Ashford, the one who had knocked on the door the other morning, had the good grace to look slightly embarrassed. Irons made a comment about playing her if she was not on duty with the usual level of rubbing it in that she was welcomed and possibly even trusted, while they were only tolerated.

Finally, Sara was off, and despite the eventful day, she wasn’t the least bit tired. Oh, it would hit her later, she knew that, but right now she had to talk to Ian. Pieces, it all came to pieces. Why was he still alive and sane? What was he to Irons? Then there was Danny’s last pronouncement. Somehow that twined in her mind with Ian’s words the other day, that they had to know what Irons was capable of. Did he believe he was in danger, or would he throw himself into harm's way to protect her, or Irons? The last she knew for certain was a resounding yes and that terrified her. She couldn’t stand the idea of anyone willing to die for her. But all that was for later. Right now, she was certain that despite what she had said, he was waiting for Carter’s words to poison her against him. Considering the way she had treated him, she couldn’t blame him.

Opening the door to their room (and when, exactly, had it become ‘their’ room, she wondered), Sara was not surprised to find Ian on the coucch, still completely dressed as though he expected her to ask him to leave. _Probably does_ , she thought.

“Hey Nottingham, you going to get comfortable?” she asked. Best to keep things light.

“I wasn’t sure you would care to…” he started.

“I told you, I don’t believe anything he told me. I’d trust your boss first. Danny said…” Sara paused. This would be the first time she had discussed her dead partner’s pronouncements with anyone except when she had delivered his message. “He said something about the truth being in the silences.”

“In what he does not say, yes. The man at best omits details, at worst outright lies,” Ian agreed. He was relaxing just a bit.

“As far as what he _did_ say, it was more of the same, like I said over dinner.”

“A wasted trip then?” Ian asked.

“No, it wasn’t. The problem is, I’m not sure what it means. I keep getting close, but I can’t quite put it together. Regardless, we had both best get some sleep. Maybe something will come to me.”

“I could…I could go back to my room,” he offered. Inside Ian was almost panicked. This was a very different situation than last night. Last night, she hadn’t been there. Of course, Sara thought it was about Carter.

“We did fine before, Ian. I trust you. Now, did you grab a shower because I could use one.”

 

Sara was almost done with her shower when suddenly she knew something was wrong. She threw herself out, grabbed a towel, and rushed from the room, barely pausing to wrap it around herself. Ian was almost out the door. "Back gate," he said briefly. It was a measure of his concentration that he appeared not to notice her state of undress, for which she was profoundly grateful. "Shots fired."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, back from camp and back to writing. Please enjoy this latest piece.


	42. Enemy at the gate

“Go,” she said. “I’ll join you when I have clothes,” she said, following him to the door. As he opened, he saw Jake McCartey poke his head out of the suite.

“Tell him to stay in his bedroom,” Ian ordered without pause, then he ran. For a moment, Jake froze in the doorway, looking from where the man in black had run to his partner in a large towel. Then he moved back into the room and closed the door.

By the time Sara had joined them at the back gate, the shooting was over and three men were being patched up with a field kit. There was glass everywhere, and the small shack (well, it would be a shack anywhere else, but with Irons, it matched the rest of the place,) no longer had any glass and it looked like there was some structural damage as well, and at least one of the cameras was hanging by its wires. All around, Ian’s men and the federal agents were eyeballing each other hostilely, while Ian and Foster were facing down at a slight distance, looking like they were ready to get into it. “What happened?” she asked.

“Big black SUV made the turn like they were coming to the gate,” one of the men being patched up, who she belatedly recognised as Nikolai, said. “This one, he says it looks like a government vehicle. He stepped out of the booth. I say leave it, no one is allowed at this hour without specific orders. Suddenly the windows are down, they open up with some heavy firepower. I do not know what all, but there was at least one .50, I recognise the sound. Think they were planning to pin us down or kill us and go for the gate, but I hit the alarm as I went down. It overrode the lock. Could maybe get through it with explosives.” He shrugged and then regretted it and winced. “If they were planning on running it though, there is not enough room to build up momentum, not with these. They are well built, solid iron.” That brought a smile to a couple of faces. The other two men said nothing. One was having his arm cleaned by Michaels, while the third was being taken back up to the house. He’d come running just in time for the glass to blow, spraying him with flying shards. None were life threatening, but he was in for a bad time.

“You are lucky this was just a graze,” Michaels said, looking up from the man’s arm. “Direct hit would have taken the arm. You would have bled out before we got here.”

“What made you think it was government?” Sara asked.

The man looked at her and shook his head, only to earn a glare from Michaels who was trying to bandage him. “Black SUV, back gate that isn’t well known,” he said. “But the thing is, right when I opened the door, I could see something…The configuration was wrong. I looked for the front plate, but the lights were too bright. It was a stupid mistake,” he admitted.

“We can see what surveillance caught,” Ian said, having turned his back on Foster. “Before the camera was shot out that is.”

“There, it’s as good as I can do. I’d say get a doctor to look at it when you rotate out.”

“That might not be necessary,” Ian told them. “I think something can be arranged, but for now, we need answers, and then I must brief Mr. Irons and review the security footage.”

“ _We_ will be taking that footage for review,” Foster said. Clearly whatever Ian had said had not made an impression.

“I think not,” Ian responded. “You are involved in this situation solely because of the international nature of the situation. So far, you appear to have made no difference. But don’t think I will allow you to…”

“Ian, let Foster send one of his men to review it with one of your men.  You know your equipment is better than what they brought,” Sara suggested. “O’Connell will give them a copy and someone to help, I’m sure. Two sets of eyes and all that.”

_Sara?_

_I’m betting your Irishman has more cameras than they know about. Even if they suspect, they can’t prove anything._ Slowly Ian smiled at Foster. “You are correct, Sara. Agent Foster, if you will send one of your men to the control room, I’m certain someone can help you. But meanwhile, Klein,” he called and his second in command, a man who was rarely seen outside the control room, appeared. “Take over here, help these gentleman with their work. I must get back to the house. Sara?”

“Just a minute,” she said, dropping down to retie the laces of her trainer. “In too much of a hurry.” She stood and joined Ian.

“I’ll join you when we have finished processing…” Foster started.

“I think not. You may speak to Mr. Irons in the morning. He prefers not to be disturbed in his private quarters.” With that, he turned his back on the man, waving Sara ahead of him. “Now, what was it that you found?” he whispered as they left the circus behind. She tried to look blank but it didn’t work. “Your shoe was already tied,” he pointed out. Out of her jacket, Sara pulled an expended round, one of her gloves wrapped around it.

“Think I’d like to have it processed separately.”

“Agreed. My men will be adding to that one as well.”

 

Inside the suite, Jake was anxious for answers. Despite the all clear, Irons had not emerged, something which didn’t really surprise him. The rookie opened the door, and Ian swept past, Sara right behind him. The man in black knocked on the inner door, while Sara stood nearby. After a moment, the door opened, and after a few quiet words that no one heard, Kenneth Irons stepped out into the sitting room in his dressing gown, but still looking as cool and elegant as ever. “Well?” he said after seating himself in his usual chair.

Ian positioned himself nearby, settling into a parade rest as he made his report. He had everyone’s attention. “Holy shit,” Jake exclaimed, shocked when he realised he’d said it out loud. He had moved close to Irons' chair, not even pretending that he wasn’t listening.

“As you say, detective,” Irons commented with just a bit of a smile. “But the questions is, what was the purpose? Thus far they have tried the perimeter fence in multiple locations, though I suspect that is just psychological, but they have also tried the office and of course, that attack on the road. Of all, that is the one that came closest, and even then it didn’t work out.”

“Perhaps that _is_ the point,” Sara said.

“Test the defences, narrow down the options,” Ian said almost to himself.

“Or maybe pin us down,” Jake contributed.

Irons turned his appraising gaze towards the blond man. “Indeed. Excellent observation, detective,” he said. “If the intent is to put us on the defensive, what is the next move, and what is their endgame?”

For a moment there was nothing more said. “I don’t know what’s next, but I do know one thing, we’ve got three injured, and we are lucky no one was killed. Not sure anyone here has the training to deal with something more serious. We re going to need someone with real medical skill.” Sara knew that was her shot. She wasn’t sure why but she knew that the answer was there, it had to be.

“Yeah, but where do we find a doctor who is willing to make a long term house call?” Jake asked.

“I believe I might be able to arrange something, now…”

There was only a moment of warning, a tingle and suddenly Sara was seeing something. _A laboratory, voices talking. ‘What is the difference? There must be one,’ Carter’s voice frustrated. ‘Up the dosage and get tests from all of them. There has to be something…’. The images began speeding up, blurring_. Ian grabbed her arm, while Irons assessed the situation. Ashford was sitting near the window, pretending he wasn’t listening, but it was McCartey that was the current concern.

“Sara?” Jake asked.

“Detective,” Irons said, reaching a hand out, pulling the man’s attention back to him. He could not see what she was seeing, unable to give it the attention, not that he could always share, sometimes he was locked out, but right now there were other things to do, time for another of his plans to be put into play. “That was very perceptive of you. Perhaps I have misjudged you.” He smiled at the man, a smile he knew would send the homophobic detective far away from Sara and Ian, completely distracting him. “Maybe you would care to continue this discussion later?”

“No…uh, I…thank you, I mean I…” Jake stepped back flustered and just a little disgusted, almost knocking over a small table.

“Careful, detective, that piece is an antique, you wouldn’t want to have to try to replace it,” Irons said, rising. Sara was back to herself, and he was certain that they needed time, time to assess the next move. “Now, Ian, Sara, can I speak to you, in private?”

Sara was still a little disoriented, but she followed with Ian into the inner room. If she had been told before this that she would find herself walking into Kenneth Irons’ bedroom for any reason other than viewing his dead body, she would have thought they were crazy. She wasn’t entirely sure what she expected. It was furnished in antiques, no surprise, it looked like a room from a museum, but she had little time for looking around.

“Well, Sara?” he asked after the door closed.

“Well what? I’m not sure what I saw, it’s all jumbled. Something about tests, that’s all that I could make out.”

“Perhaps my past, I saw nothing but…” Ian commented.

“Maybe I need to sleep on it or something. I just feel like I’m missing something. One thing I do know, I’ve got to get that round I found to the lab, and we need your doctor. At least now we have a good reason to have him here.”

“Yes, it is,” Irons said distractedly. It was disturbing him too, that they were missing something. “I will contact him in the morning and tell him to prepare.”

“Good. Maybe we will get somewhere. Now, if we are done, Ian and I still have work to do.”

“Goodnight, then,” he said, clearly dismissing them.

“Would you like coffee before we meet O’Connell?” Ian asked as soon as they were out of the room.

“Always. Ian, was Irons flirting with the rookie?” she asked as some of what was happening around her filtered back.

“I believe he was distracting him,” he said with a bit of a wicked smile.

“Well, that will keep him on his toes. Now coffee.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a little more story. Hope you are still enjoying it.


	43. The answers to unwanted questions

It was no surprise that the resident technical genius was in the actual command centre, and from what she could hear, waiting for the call. It didn’t take much time before they were settled in their little unofficial war room with coffee and what they needed.

“That lot is looking over the footage from the two main cameras. Not going to get very far there, but that’s no business of mine. The cameras that got taken out are meant to be seen, after all. They have limited range though, both unidirectional. Now,” O’Connell said as he opened his laptop. “Tere are the rest of ‘em. Most people see what tey're meant to be seeing, keeps ‘em from looking too closely.”

They spent an hour reviewing the footage. With the two other cameras, in addition to one on the wall near to the turn which was motion activated, they got a much better look. “That is some pretty heavy fire power,” Sara commented as they watched the ‘bullet proof’ glass on the little building explode.

“Is, yeah. I tink I can manage a better look. Licenses are pretty tightly controlled. Assuming…”

“Assuming they got them through legal means, yeah, I wouldn’t count on it,” Sara said. “That SUV though, if it’s not the same one, it’s at the ver least a close relative of the one that ran us off the road the other day. We need to know more about it.”

“I’ll take a crack at it. This, you are seeing is just the raw footage. I’ve a few tricks up me sleeve yet,” O’Connell assured her. With nothing else she could contribute, Sara went back to the room. Ian had stayed behind to check up on their opposites, but she was sure he would be along when he was done. With luck, she’d be asleep by that time.

When she had offered, she was thinking it was only right not to cramp him on the couch, but she had not counted on the awkwardness of it all.  Especially since she had woken up in the middle of the night snuggled up to him.  She'd exaracted herself carefully without waking him, and he'd not said anything, so she was praying that he hadn't noticed.

Then there was the other thing, the vision or whatever it was. She was still trying to understand what it, what any of them meant. The problem was, thus far, they hadn’t made any sense until the last minute, sometimes not even then. One thing she was almost certain of, that she was close and that it had to do with Ian Nottingham.

 

Morning announced itself far too early for Sara’s comfort, especially considering how disturbed her sleep had been. She wasn’t any closer to figuring out what the vision was telling her, except that Ian was somehow different than the others. Not like that was a revelation. But how?

Even as she was trying to process this, the subject of her musings entered carrying a tray which she knew contained her morning coffee. “Morning,” she said.

“You need not be awake yet,” Ian said. “I just thought I would leave this for you before I relieve McCartey.”

“The rookie can wait a few extra minutes. I need to run something by you.  The more I think about it, the more I think you are the key to this.”

“Me?” he asked.

“Well, you and Irons. This is all about the Black Dragons. He provided the toys, and the research, not to mention some of the funding for the project. Then there is you. The rest of them, the guys you served with, they went crazy, right? Violent, paranoid. I got to see some of that myself. Trained to work as a unit, to think like one, right?” He nodded, unsure what she was trying to get at. His own night had not been peaceful, filled with dreams, flashbacks, the sort he’d not had in years. The other thing he knew for certain, she was getting dangerously close to things he could not tell her. “Why were _you_ not affected? At one time, you were part of that unit, thought that way, but you were able to come out the other side. I mean, I know what Carter keeps saying, but Irons is right, you are…”

“Regardless of what Mr. Irons believes, we were all broken toys, warped body and mind by what was asked of us, by our training, by what our superiors asked us to do. It pleases him to believe that I came through unscathed, and I will have nothing change that opinion,” he said almost angrily, as if accusing her of something. It wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have, ever, certainly not first thing. No one could know how damaged it had left him, not even, especially not, his father or Sara.

“Why does it matter what he thinks?” she started, latching on to something that had been bugging her for a while, something it was past time they brought out into the open.  She stood up and poured herself a cup of coffee just to keep from yelling at him more than he deserved. “I mean, what is it with you? I know you aren’t lovers, despite rumours. That's just gossip and smoke screen. It would be about as stupid as it gets, and neither of you is that.  Besides, I don't think we would be able to pull this off if you were or ever had been, but you’re a lot more than just employer/employee. Here you are, the big, bad assassin guy and yet when Irons says ‘Jump,’ you say ‘How high, sir?’ He treats you like…I don’t even know, though you’ve been more normal around him with this circus than usual,” she admitted, though she was having a hard time expressing herself. The ducked head, the gloves, the way he held himself in the shadows and yet… “How can you just take it?”

“He pays well?” he said facetiously, trying for a bit of humour.  He should never have said what he did, not to her, now he had to find a way out of this.  She was having an unfortunate effect on his usual control. Sara shook her head as her temper started to build. By now, he should know better than to try to joke with her first thing in the morning.

“Nottingham…” she said with a bit of warning in her voice.

“Sara, regardless of what you may believe, Mr. Irons does not treat me so horribly. I owe him, for everything, and as much as I desire you to think well of me, I cannot change my relationship with him to please you, nor will I pretend otherwise," he said with a sigh.  He hoped she would just accept it, even if it brought a wedge between them again. 

“How about a simple answer then? Let’s start at the beginning, what do you mean, you owe him everything? Maybe just explain.”

“Suffice it to say that without Kenneth Irons I would not exist”

“Nottingham, plain English, remember?” she snapped at him.

Ian thought about it. This was not particularly a subject he wished to discuss with Sara, not now, not ever. Even if he tried, it was not something he _could_ answer without permission if he wanted to. Yet again they had hit this point, and he had to demure. But if he tried to change the subject, he would break the peace between them, not to mention the growing acceptance he thought was coming, and, dare he hope, friendship? But while he could not tell her the whole truth, neither could he lie to her. She was his Goddess, he could no more lie to her than he could lie to his father. Taking a moment to put his thoughts together, he began slowly. “Mr. Irons raised me. I have lived here almost all of my life, or at least as long as I can remember. I was raised here in this house. Without him…” He shrugged. His voice was quiet, calm with not a trace of the emotion boiling within.

“Geezus, Nottingham,” she swore. It made…well as much sense as anything, more than any other explanation she’d ever considered. It also explained why his records were so vague. No one knew anything about Irons’ background, why would she expect anyone to know about this?  There was probably a lot more to it than he was saying, there always was, but still, she’d really put her foot in her mouth.  Time to back off a little.  This was too much too early, but she couldn't just drop it.  Loyal, Ian was that, completely loyal and now she knew why. “Why didn’t you tell me instead of letting me run off at the mouth like that? Why the secrecy, what's the big deal? Why not just tell me? So you were like, what, adopted by him, or something?” There was a note of something, embarrassment, apology in her tone.

“Which question would you like answered first? It does not matter, the details are unimportant. I thought you were more comfortable with your preconceived notions,” he said, trying not to look her in the eye. This conversation was proving painful and he really just wanted to escape to Irons, to his work, to forget and hope that she did.

“Ouch, point made. I guess it was just easier to look at the surface, but you didn’t make it easy either, pal,” she accused, looking up from her cup.

“I did not,” he acknowledged. “Like you, I do not find it easy to approach people, especially not you.” The admission was hard for him to make, but if he was going to keep her trust and at the same time keep them out of the realm of questions he could not answer without explicit orders, it was better to have the discomfort directed at him.

“Why especially me? Come on, Ian, I thought we were getting somewhere, learning to talk or something,” Sara said.

“You are different, you are the Wielder, my duty is merely to protect you, nothing more...personal can be allowed to intrude. But...”

“What do you mean by that?” she shot back.  Sara was getting a little frustrated by the way he waffled back and forth, one moment talking about duty as if he cared nothing at all about her, did not even want to know her if he didn’t have to, but at same time he had told her that he was interested. It was too much push and pull for her.

“I…” he started, realising his slip but unable to do anything about it now. What did he tell her? Surely he could not admit….

“Spit it out, Ian.”

“It’s not my place, it would be inappropriate for me to want…” he reiterated his statement of the other night. Taken with what he had just said about Irons, she kind of wanted to go down the hall and have a very pointed and one sided conversation with him about child rearing. How old was Ian when he came here, what was his life before, did he even know? Those questions were chasing themselves around and she didn’t have time for them now.

“What the hell are you talking about? Inappropriate for you to want what? Where do you get this crap?”

“I…it is difficult to find the…if you…”

“Are you trying to say you want to ask me _out_?” she asked. Of course, he had told her that he was interested but wouldn't pursue it. Now she was starting to see that at least part of that was down to other things than just her discomfort. Which would be all right, if she didn't have the feeling that somehow they were getting closer, closer than she, or he apparently, was comfortable with. Did she want to get closer to him? Or was she just trying to get him to answer for what he wanted, without all the mysterious destiny crap?  Worse, what did _she_ want?  Sara had the sinking feeling that she was starting to...well, she didn't want to think about it.  But she knew that Ian Nottingham was more to her than she wanted to examine too closely, especially without enough coffee.   _Great, I think I've been playing the role too long, it's starting to feel real._  The thought chilled her.  

Ian looked at her and tried to find the words.   _No, that is exactly what I am trying to tell you I may not do_ , he thought.

“Well?”

“I would be honoured to be of any assistance…”

“Ian, knock it off," she snapped. "Come on, I've asked you not to do that. You know it pisses me off. That is an Irons’ answer, I want yours, just you, a simple yes or no.”

“Yes, Sara.” He would not lie to her.

“So ask, what is the worst I can do? Turn you down?” she said, suddenly unsure of her next move. What the hell was she doing? _You are trying to get him to stand up for himself_ , she tried to tell herself, but she knew that wasn’t it, or at least that wasn’t all she was doing, and she didn’t even want to think about it. _Great, I am getting as cagey as they are; I have got to get out of here before I do something monumentally stupid._

“Would you...have dinner with me sometime, when this situation is resolved?” The question was quiet, almost shy, as if he had never asked a girl out on a date before.

 _Probably never had to_ , she thought. _He is a really good looking guy, not like he is going to have any trouble, even with Irons around.  Ah, shit, what the hell am I doing?_ “You mean like a real dinner, going out some for food, not the staff room downstairs, or takeaway?” she asked with a smile, trying to make light of it, get away from the serious emotional stuff, reminding him of the few times they had eaten together. That was the way.

“Exactly like that. I would even venture to go so far as to recommend a place with tablecloths,” he suggested quietly, once again exhibiting that shy sense of humour that she had started to appreciate.

Sara considered her answer. Ian had been good to her, despite the way she had treated him, though she was trying to correct that. He'd saved her life more than once, been there when she needed him, not to mention going along with the situation she'd got him into, backing her play even against Irons, and all she'd managed to do was not yell at him as often. Besides, while she was getting better, really trying to treat him like a human being, she had been jumping to conclusions about him pretty much since day one. _Yeah, favourite form of exercise, as Danny used to say. How is the way you treat him so much different than Irons? Sometimes it's even worse, and yet, he is still there, loyal, even to you. Even though you definitely don't deserve it. Besides, it's just one dinner, what could it hurt?_ “All right, Ian, no promises, no expectations, but I will have dinner with you, a real dinner in a restaurant, not hanging out here eating with Irons, or the feds, or in the room, or takeaway.”

The look of pure joy on his face shocked Sara severely. She almost changed her mind right then and there, but could not quite bring herself to. It would probably crush him and send him back to the strange, almost reverence he treated her with, which made her really uncomfortable, especially as far as they had come. That or leaving her alone, hiding like a hurt puppy. That would put her ranking on the scum meter somewhere between taking a kid’s candy and smacking a stray for following you home. And after a moment, she returned the smile.

“Now we just have to deal with Irons' doctor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is more than a little more, but things are starting to speed up in this story, so...here you go.


	44. Trap

“I don’t like this,” Sara said for the fourth time.

“Nor do I,” Irons agreed.

 _It had to happen sometime_ , Sara thought.

“But there is no choice,” Ian said. “We cannot send them.  I will take McCartey, Benson, and Mendoza,” he added after a moment. “It is a simple pick up, no one is expecting us.”

“Leave Jake, I’ll go,” Sara volunteered. They had been arguing since Irons had gotten word that Doctor Immo would be ready in the late afternoon. “We can drop those rounds off at the lab.”

“No, Sara, I need you here, with Mr. Irons. I don’t trust those men,” he said urgently. “No one knows that we are going, or rather, no one who is not in this room, except the doctor. The agents won't  know until we are ready to leave. We will drop your package off at the lab on the way, another reason to have the detective with me.”

“Ian…” Irons started, clearly prepared to issue an order.

“No sir,” he cut him off, shocking both of them.

“Sara, would you…”

“ _No_ sir,” Ian reiterated. “With all due respect, I will _not_ yield on this, regardless of the consequences, with or without Sara’s presence.” He set his jaw and looked the other man in the eye, determination in every line of his body. Irons reached out, putting a hand on his chin, and locked eyes with him.

“What do you know?” he asked, sharply.

“Nothing, save that you need to be protected. Sir, I am trained for a great deal more than this. Allow me to do my job.”

 _I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it_ , Sara thought. For once, Irons backed down, though he did not look happy. _Actually, he looks…old_.

“It is nothing, a simple enough mission. I am more concerned with you. It will take at most two hours,” Ian said, ignoring the tension. “McCartey is a good driver, with Jennings out of commission, he will do. Besides, as you are the target, sir, I would rather keep defences high. If they try for an actual assault, it will probably be when we return, try to attack while the gate is open. But that can be taken care of.” He smiled, and Sara had to agree with him, they were both ready for a real fight, no more jumping at shadows.

“See to the details then,” Irons dismissed them.

“I…” Ian started.

“I will remain in here, I assume _that_ is acceptable?” he shot back sarcastically. “But I need some…peace.” Sara wasn’t entirely sure, but she thought it might be the first time she had seen a crack in his armour.

“Ian,” she said as they left the office. “I…”

“Sara, will you ask Detective McCartey to be ready when I’ve finished and brief him? The sooner we are gone…”. he said too quietly to be heard by their counterparts. Sara wished she could talk to him alone, but there was no way that was going to happen, and she had a sneaking suspicion that was deliberate. Still she couldn’t shake her feeling that something was very wrong.

 

Two hours later, she was saying goodbye to Ian. They were all wearing earpieces that would be routed through the command centre. O’Connell had given her one without a word, so she could monitor the situation. Irons had, at her request, locked himself in his office, leaving his federal watchdog and two of Ian’s men outside. He was being quiet, which, at least to her meant he, too, had a bad feeling about this. At the same time, there were no visions, no nothing, just a general feeling of unease and edginess.

“Watch yourself,” she said as she walked with him out of the house to the garage. “And watch out for the rookie. If anyone is going to break him, it’s going to be me.” This said a bit louder, the joke was a little forced, but she was trying to act normal, even though she was almost sure that even Jake could feel the tension.

“Always Sara. Besides, this is a simple job. I am more concerned with you,” he told her.

“Me? I’m here in this overdecorated fortress. Defence is easier, and I’ve got a lot of help. Look at it this way, he’s surrounded by walls, some of the best electronic security in the world, and a lot of dangerous people. Oh, and the federal agents too. He’s in more danger from _me_.” That brought a smile to both men. _Is Irons armed?_ The thought struck suddenly. Not that she didn’t trust their counterparts, or rather, she only trusted some of them. The problem was she didn’t know _which_ ones.

 _He does not routinely go armed inside the house, but yes, I requested that he do so. Whether he did…I did not frisk him_. That almost made her laugh out loud. Instead, as they neared the garage door, and Jake went to take the wheel of the SUV that had just pulled out, she reached out and pulled Ian down for a kiss. Sara wasn’t entirely sure what impulse led her to do it, but it was too late to stop.  Despite the various ups and downs of the last days, it felt good and right, and she really did _not_ want to examine that too closely. Instead, she let go. “Call on your way back. If they have time to set up, we will get some action when the gate is open.”

“And we will be ready.”

“We’ll have to plan an appropriate welcome,” she said. That was something she could actually get behind, and take her mind off her worry.

 

“When we arrive, I imagine the doctor will have some equipment and other things,” Ian said. “I want to get loaded quickly.” They were already going towards the pick up, having dropped off the package to Vicki to slip to the lab on the qt.

“Do you think they are going to try to hit with us gone?” Jake asked. He had not said anything since he’d got back in at the morgue. Actually he’d been shocked when Sara told him that Nottingham wanted him to drive. After all, the two of them weren’t exactly each other’s favourite person, though the enmity between them had settled to a simmer over the last couple of days, with stress elsewhere.

“I’m not certain, but I would be surprised if they don’t have some kind of distance surveillance in place, and I’ve not ruled out a mole among Foster’s team,” Ian answered. He’d gotten more information on the rookie’s mission with the last of the research he’d requested, which, while it didn’t make him trust the man completely, moved him down the list of people he thought he might have to kill. Perhaps he would even help him. Dante had been useful to his master in the past, and they had done some business when Ian was a child, though Irons always sent him away when the man came. But that had been a long time ago, and Dante was as arrogant as he was careless. _Maybe_ , Ian thought, _I will offer to help when we are done_. The sooner the crooked police man was away from Sara, the happier he would be.

For the moment, McCartey said nothing, watching traffic and thinking. “I’m not sure, but I think you’re right,” he said finally.

 

Sara got up and walked across the floor. It was the fourth time she had changed positions in the last twenty minutes. She’d taken a few moments to check with Klein about the arrangements for their 'welcoming party', should it be necessary, but since then, she had nothing to do but worry. It didn’t help that her current opposite number was Coleman, the man who had been caught snooping. Of course, once again, O’Connell was sitting on the library level, looking casual, though she knew better.

Irons looked up from his desk in the inner office and scowled at her. He was just as edgy as she was, the only thing that made this unusual was that she could tell. The man was an expert at being calm and collected. She had personally seen him sit casually while bound to a chair and threatened with a flame thrower, that she could see his nerves, that was part of what made her even more jumpy.

The earpiece crackled, relayed from where they were monitoring in the depths of the house, and she heard Ian. “Arrived, we are getting the doctor and his equipment loaded.”

Sara started to breath a sigh of relief.  Then she saw Danny. “Sara…” Chaos broke out on the other end. There was a moment when she could feel Ian, something going through her like an electric shock, and she knew something was happening to him. She turned to look at Irons, he was feeling it too.

On the radio, she could only listen helplessly as Jake shouted orders to the others over the open channel. “Get the doctor out of here! Nottingham is down, Benson is down, I can’t…”

Then she knew. It wasn’t about Irons, it was _Ian_ they wanted. Oh, they probably wanted Irons too, or at least wanted him dead, but Ian was the prototype, he was the target. _What makes him different?_ She could hear Carter’s words from her vision again. She drew her side arm, and, looking up with a nod to O’Connell, backed into the office with Irons and locked the door.

 

After a certain amount of coordination over the private channel, listening to Klein make arrangements to send a team to the site, and get the doctor to them as soon as he arrived, not to mention finding out that apparently Mendoza’s com had gone down, so they were in the dark, there was nothing to do but worry. “We’ve _got_ to have a leak,” she said finally to Irons. “Do you think it’s possible that the doctor…” She was pacing the small space in front of the desk which wasn’t making either of them calmer.

“No. Immo is completely loyal. I agree it has to be someone from inside. Since no one knew where they were going, or that they were going until they left, someone had to tell our opponents. What I do _not_ know is how they managed to follow them.” He was trying to hide it, but Sara could tell he was as agitated as she was. She wanted to ask him about what had happened to Ian, to see if he knew more, but she couldn’t think about that now.

“Tracker? I’m not sure if the cars have been swept, that’s a…” The earpiece clicked on.

“Incoming. Foster plus.” It was O’Connell.

“Great, just what we need. Foster’s coming, no surprise there. No doubt he is going to take advantage of Ian’s…whatever, to try to assert control,” she said. “I suppose we can just stay locked in here, the place is practically bomb proof, but…”

“Back up on route,” her earpiece whispered.

“Ian’s men are coming too, looks like we are going to have a show down,” she relayed. There was a pounding on the door, though if Foster was saying anything, the soundproofing was keeping it out.

Irons stood, all sign of concern banished from his face, and for once, Sara wished she could managed that. She noticed that he had not buttoned his jacket, leading her to suspect that he had followed Ian’s request.

“Now,” she heard. She nodded to Irons, and drew her weapon, feeling the Witchblade hum along with her rising anger, adding to the emotional storm inside. Carefully, she opened the door, levelling her weapon.

“Stand down, detective. We know something has happened to Nottingham. From this point, I’m taking over. His second in command and you will both report…”

“No,” said Klein from behind and above at the railing on the library level. With him, armed, were half a dozen of the security force.

“Your boss is gone, you don’t even know if he’s alive,” the man sneered. “You will take your orders from…"

“From Detective Pezzini,” Klein responded.

“What?” the agent asked, floored.

“Me?” Sara added.

“Mr. Nottingham’s orders, if anything happens to him, we take our orders from you,” the second in command confirmed. “Someone in this house has leaked information. I know it’s none of _my_ men.”

Sara was still trying to process the situation. It fed into her conviction that Ian had, at the very least, prepared for the possibility. “Irons,” Foster appealed to the man behind her. “I can do this by force if necessary.”

“I think not.  Detective?”

“Nikolai, Anderson, you are going to come with me. Foster, send a couple of your men if you like, but we are going to play this _my_ way. I’m taking Mr. Irons back to his suite. Klein, bring the doctor when he gets here, but for now, we are going to lock ourselves in.”

“You heard the detective,” Irons said.

 

“Nottingham…Ian, come on, man, wake up,” Jake McCartey said, shaking the bigger man. He was still trying to figure out exactly what happened. They had gotten the doc into the car. Benson and Mendoza were loading while he and Ian stood on guard. Then there was a truck, flashing lights, that was all he could see. Nottingham had…well, it looked like a seizure. He shouted for Mendoza just as the gun fire started.

Jake remembered trying to grab Nottingham, covering the man. He saw Benson fall, and he shouted for Mendoza to go, as he heard the doctor screaming from inside the SUV. As they drove away, some men jumped out of the truck and… “Damn, I think those assholes tazered me.” He certainly felt like he’d been run over by something. Now he was in some kind of cell, Nottingham was on the floor unconscious, and Jake had no idea what to do.

“Sara…” the other man murmured. He sounded out of it, maybe drugged. “Is she safe?” Jake watched his eyes open, looking unfocused, as if he was talking to someone who wasn’t there. That his first thought were of Sara made Jake fell like, well, like an asshole, especially for the way he’d been about them.

“She’s fine, she’s safe back at the mansion with Irons,” the detective whispered.

“You shouldn’t _be_ here. You are _her_ guardian, go, be with her, with both of them. Please…”

“Great,” Jake muttered. “He’s hallucinating. I hope the seizure didn’t fry anything. I don’t think a rescue is coming, and it’s going to take both of us to get out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so here is another chunk that I know my sister has been waiting far too long for...


	45. Lock down

The move through the house, involving as it did a lot of heavily armed and extremely twitchy people (not to mention one extremely twitchy magical weapon masquerading as jewellery), was anything but pleasant. Realising that there was no way he was going to win, Foster had tried to appeal to Sara as a cop. It was ineffective, but she at least let the man accompany them. It was time for a serious talk.

Once they arrived, Sara stepped with Irons into the bedroom, leaving Ian’s men guarding the door. “You’re carrying, aren’t you?” she asked. He moved the jacket aside and she was unsurprised to see the Walther in its custom fitted holster. Clearly he had his suits tailored to accommodate. It only surprised her somewhat. Without being asked, he drew it and handed it, butt first, to her. Sara did a quick inspection, but was not at all surprised to find it was in perfect order. “Spare ammo?”

“In the closet, with extra clips. I have an old Barretta as well, also in full working condition,” he told her.

“Okay. I’m not sure, but I don’t want to take chances now, especially…” she paused. Now was _not_ the time to talk about Ian, the concern that she never thought she would feel. There would be time later. “This is our fall back position. It’s the safest place in the house, outside the security control centre.” Thinking about that reminded Sara of something else. She keyed the com. “O’Connell?”

“Aye, detective?”

“Security command and control, lock it down,” she ordered

“Already on it. Don’t tink tey know where we are, but best safe. I’ll be on the inside, monitoring.”

“Thank you. I wish I could suggest that external communications be monitored to try to find the leak, but that would be illegal, especially without a warrant,” Sara commented.

“Aye, it would, and I’d never want to get on the wrong side o’ the law. I’m not certain that the estate switchboard is workin’ quite right, though, need to get it sorted, and the cell tower…well, ye know how tose tings can be,” the Irishman said. He was quick on the uptake.

“Tell Klein when he comes, I need full tac gear, for both of us,” she said as she looked at Irons. The man just nodded. He was quiet for now, but there was a lot that they would need to talk about later.

“Will do.” She keyed off.

“I suppose we’d best deal with Foster. Once we get the report from the scene, we will know more, but until Ian is back, I’m your shadow, you okay with that?” Irons just nodded. It was a measure of just how out of the ordinary the situation was that he did not even make the mildest of suggestive comments. Sara wished she felt better about that. “After we deal with this, we have some other plans to make.”

She and Irons emerged from the bedroom into a very tense room. Klein was just coming in, and the way he and Foster were eyeing each other, she was pretty sure the agent had tried to interfere. “Report,” she said.

“Got men on the scene. Benson was shot, they got him to the hospital and straight to surgery. Mendoza called in, inbound with the doctor. Minor injury, the doc’s fine,” he said.

“We should be there, it's a goddamn crime scene,” Foster burst out.

“Fine, Klein, tell him where, he can get a CSU team out there.” She was almost certain that Ian’s men had already gotten what they needed. “Now, what about Ian and Jake?”

“No sign. No large blood pools either, except for Benson,” the man answered.

“They’ve taken them.”

“That’s the read of the field team,” the man answered. Not that it wasn’t what they were all thinking.

“Okay, can you get Wilson in here? And Miss Leighton.” The man complied immediately, something that clearly upset Foster as well. The federal agent was giving her black looks and she could see the wheels turning. Irons had drifted to his usual chair and Sara went to join him. Foster followed, taking a seat on the couch. Thus far the billionaire had been completely silent.

“Mr Irons,” Foster addressed him. “I understand that you have a lot of admiration for Detective Pezzini, as do I, but…”

“I have complete faith in Ian Nottingham’s judgement. He gave his orders, I see no reason to countermand his judgement.”

“For God’s sake, she’s his girlfriend, you don’t think his judgement just _might_ be compromised?” the man cried.

“Klein?” he asked as the other man stepped back into the room.

“I’m with Mr. Nottingham, sir,” the second in command said.

“Anderson?”

“I was there when the car was hit, I’m with her,” the quiet security man agreed.

“And I,” Nikolai added without prompting.

“So you see. I suggest you work with the detective, or you may leave my home,” Irons said with finality. There was a knock on the door, and Wilson entered, followed by Elisabeth Leighton. The assistant went straight to her usual place at the small writing desk, notebook at the ready. “Now, Sara, I believe the floor is yours.”

Wilson was standing military straight. Sara wondered briefly if he had been in service, someone’s, before he came to work for Irons. If he had been there as long as she suspected, he was probably just as worried as they were.

“Okay, as of now, we are going into full lockdown. Wilson, only you enter the room right now. The rest of the staff…”

“The rest of the household staff is being prepared at this moment to be sent off the estate. However, myself, Mrs. Wilson, and Mrs. Hancock will remain, as will our son. No one knows the grounds the way he does,” the old man said firmly.

“Henry…” Irons started, addressing the man by his first name for the first time Sara had ever heard. From the looks on the faces of Ian’s staff, they had not either.

“This is our home, sir. We stay,” the butler said.

“Give my thanks to them,” was Irons' only answer, but Sara could see some strong emotion there.

“Of course, sir,” the man said.

“We are going to need a room for the doctor, preferably up here,” Sara said.

“I’ve had the room next to yours prepared for him, detective. And I will handle bringing the meals personally.”

“Thanks. Now, Miss Leighton…”

“I’m staying as well,” the woman said quietly. “No need to get more behind on work.” Irons looked at her, surprised, but he smiled just a little and made no comment.

“All right, this is what I am thinking. Klein, I want two of your men, hand picked, in here at all times, full tac and com's, that goes for everyone. Other than the people in this room right now, and the doctor, no one goes in or out of that door,” Sara said pointing to the door out of the suite.

“I won’t…” Foster began again.

“You can have one more,” Sara said. “Ashford, he seems level headed enough. Two more of your men in the hallway, with two of Ian’s, one on each stairwell, one on either end of the hall, work out the details among yourselves. Irons?”

“Very thorough, Sara,” he agreed.

“Klein…” Before she could stay more though, the man handed her a large duffle that had been sitting at his feet. She met his eyes, and looked at Irons. The second in command nodded. “All right.”

“So where are you going to be in this little arrangement, detective? You wouldn’t be planning to try and go after Nottingham and McCartey by yourself, would you?” Foster asked.

“Ian can look after himself. I promised him I would stay with Irons, and I’m going to do it. I will be locked down with him in there,” she said, pointing to the bedroom.

 

Jake wasn’t sure how long they had been in the cell. His watch had broken at some point in the fight, and his cell phone was gone along with his sidearm, his backup, and even the pocket knife he carried, not to mention his shoes. If they had gotten everything from him, they had probably had to strip search Nottingham. They had taken the other man’s coat and his combat boots, as well as the heavy shirt he usually wore over his tank top, in addition to whatever weapons (and he was sure there were plenty of them) he’d been carrying. On Ian’s arm, Jake saw the black dragon tattoo. The other thing they had taken were the gloves the man usually wore.

Jake managed to wrestle the big guy so he was leaning against the wall, and tried to wake him again, but all he had managed to get out of him was another stream of words. This time, Jake thought they might have been in French, and the only word he understood was a name, Jean, which he thought was either John, or Joanne, something like that. It didn’t tell him anything though.

A low groan told Jake that the object of his speculation was coming around finally. “Hey Nottingham,” he said moving over to him. “You back with me?”

“De…Detective McCartey? Where…” he started, opening his eyes.

“Where are we? Sorry, can’t help, I’m pretty sure they tazered me before they grabbed us. Care to tell me what happened back there? I mean, I’ve heard about lights causing some kind of epileptic…”

“Not exactly. It was a side effect of the training. But whoever came after us, they would have to know about it and they would have to know the specific frequency involved."

“That’s what they were trying to do that day, when they hit the limo, wasn’t it? They assumed you were in with Irons, take out you, Irons is easy. Well, not as easy as all that, but…”

“But I don’t think it was Irons they were after, it was me, all along, the last living Black Dragon.” As he said it, they heard the lock engage.

 

Sara had retreated into the bedroom with Irons, and the bag that Klein had brought. Mendoza had just arrived at the gate, and they were going to get him treated, then get the doctor settled, so she had a little time. They had also heard from the hospital. Benson was expected to live, but he couldn’t tell them anything right now. “Let’s see what we have here,” she said, opening the bag which had not one, but two sets of body armour. “Nice. I’m going to say this one is yours. Best get it on and…”

She looked up as a feeling came over her. Danny was standing in the room. Irons was looking at her, paused where he had been removing his tie. “Yes, Sara, like Ian, I can feel our visitor, or should I say, your visitor?

“Danny,” she said.

“Yeah, partner. As I’m sure you know, they have Nottingham and Jake.”

“Are they all right?” she asked. Irons was watching her intently, even as he continued to undress.

“For now, they are alive, but I wouldn’t count on that remaining the case,” her dead partner said.

“Thanks, I didn’t think they took them because they wanted to get together a pick up basketball game,” she shot back sarcastically. “But what can I…”

“You know, Sara. You are already planning it. Ask Irons, use the Witchblade. You are connected. It will help you find him,” he told her.

“But I can’t. I…” Sara stopped. She didn’t bother denying that she was planning on going after him. She had been planning it the moment she felt the…whatever it was that had happened to him, she just hadn’t figured out how yet. But she was afraid. All she could think about was all the people she had lost, those she had failed, including the one standing before her. Ian, he was…well, she didn’t know for sure what he was, but he was a lot more to her than she had been willing to admit, and she couldn’t bear the thought that she would lose him, that she’d never be able to tell him. “I will find a way,” she said.

“You’ve got some time, but not a lot, maybe two days. They aren’t going to keep him long, especially once they figure out that they can’t break him,” Danny said. “Sara, he can see me. Hurry.”

“Can you…” But he had disappeared. “Damn.”

“Sara? What did he tell you?” Irons asked. He had paused, shirt unbuttoned, one cuff undone. It was the first time she had seen him looking less that perfect.

“I’m going after Ian tonight. I’m going to need some help, Danny says…well, you know. I can use this to find him, at least I hope I can. I’m not quite sure how, but I’m pretty sure you have an idea. As soon as you are locked in here…”

“Of course you are, and I’m coming with you,” he said.

“You…no way. I can’t. It’s going to be hard enough for _me_ to sneak out. You are…”

“I can take care of myself,” Irons shot back darkly. “But beyond that, how do you propose to stop me? We will go around midnight.”

“Whoa, what makes you think I will agree?” Sara growled.

“Two things. One, I know how to get out. There are one or two tricks that Ian did _not_ share with you, not thinking they would be necessary, or that if they were, we would be in a situation like this. And the second, you need me to find him,” the man said with just a ghost of his usual smug smile. “I have far more experience than you have. Besides, while you are a remarkable woman, capable of a great deal, you cannot fight, even with the Witchblade’s assistance, and still help or possibly carry one or both of them. I do not know what your partner told you, but I can guess. Ian would only be taken if he were incapacitated.”

“Why do you even _want_ to help?” she asked. She was probably being unfair to him, he had clearly been upset by what had happened, but, there was something else there.

“That is none of _your_ business,” he snapped.

“Then I _can’t_ take you with me.”

“I am going whether you want me or no…” Irons told her. She just glared at him. After a few moments, he sighed. “Sara, have you not truly figured out the connection? I am going with you to save him because Ian is my _son_. I will _not_ be left behind.” Suddenly it all clicked into place, what he had said, and what he hadn’t, their odd relationship, even the occasional similarities that she had noticed, in a look or an action.

“Bloodlines. The Witchblade, you said it marked you. You are connected and…”

“Yes, the changes were..profound, and they reach deep, all the way to the genetic level. It’s why…”

“That’s why it didn’t affect him,” she said. The pieces were coming together now. “It doesn’t matter, they, whoever the hell they are, whatever they are trying to do, they can’t find what they want. But why would you put…”

“Enough,” he said, and Sara realised that no matter how many things she had accused him of, called him unfeeling, this was harder on him than anyone else would ever see. “I have given you greater latitude that I have allowed anyone in a very long time, but I have said as much as I will. As you said, there are plans to make.”

“One question, why all the secrecy? I mean…” She figured it was an easy enough question.

“You know my life, the danger, would you want a child put in that position? As it is, I can keep him with me, and still…”

“Hide in plain sight,” she muttered mostly to herself. She didn’t pretend to understands Irons, and what or why he did anything, but Sara had seen behind the masque a little, and right now, well, she knew a lot about hiding. She wasn’t sure what it all meant, but there would be time to figure that out, later, after this was all over, possibly with a good stiff drink. “And the doctor, how…”

“He brought my son into this world.”

 

Jake McCartey sat in the dark room alone. The cell contained only a small sink, stained with rust, and dripping slightly, and a bucket that he sincerely hoped they were out of there before needing. The only light came from some cracks high up on the wall from around what were probably boarded up windows but too high to reach. A couple of men had come and dragged Nottingham away. Ian had tried to play possum but they weren’t stupid enough to fall for that one, unfortunately, at least not yet. Maybe later, when they got careless, assuming there was a later. Of course, he wasn’t entirely sure what kind of shape the man would be in by then.

Ian Nottingham was a highly trained, genetically enhanced super soldier, whoever it was that had captured the two of them, was clearly looking for a way to recreate that, without the psycho side effects. The question was, what were they willing to do to make that happen?  So far, they seemed willing to go to pretty extreme lengths.

The door opened, but before Jake could do anything, they tossed Notthingham through like a sack of potatoes, not even paying attention to where he fell, and closed the door. “Hey, you guys plan on leaving us back here, you could at least feed us,” he shouted. He got up and banged on the door, hoping they would returned, but when nothing happened after a few minutes, he turned back to Nottingham.

“Hey Ian, you okay?” he asked, kneeling beside the man. That he hadn’t moved was not a good sign. With a little effort, Jake got him turned over and got a good look. He had a black eye, and a bruise on his jaw, but it was his arm that shook the detective. His arm looked like it had been used as a pin cushion, multiple injection marks, like a junkie except that these were all the same age, vintage, at a guess, an hour, a couple still bleeding sluggishly. “Damn, I wish I knew what they’ve given you.”

“Not…” Ian whispered.

“You back with me? What did they do?”

“Took blood, tests, drugs, looking for answers,” he whispered. Jake got up and tried to figure out something. Finally, he just caught some water in his hands, and got a mouthful or two into the other man. “Nothing to find. Need…”

“Look, take it easy. Do you have any idea what they gave you or how long it will last?” Jake asked.

“Not certain,  a narcotic,  plus some kind of interrogation drugs, not sure which ones. Will wear off, but I’m weak,” Ian said. The good news was he was sounding clearer all the time.

“Truth serum, seriously? I…” Jake started.

“I know who you are,” Nottingham said. Jake stopped. He wasn’t sure how to react, or even if he should. The man’s marbles were seriously rattled, who knew what he meant.

“Who I…” Deciding that stupid rookie might be the best tactic, he went for oblivious.

“I know who you are, and what your mission is, or was. No time for games,” Ian tried to pull himself up and Jake gave him an arm to help.

“You…you know and you haven’t told Sara,” he asked.

“No. I knew _what_ you were, it's why I was so hostile to you, for which I apologise. I only recently found out what your mission is, no time. But as you are no danger to Sara…”

“Never, man. I wanted to tell her, but…” Jake stopped.

“The men you hunt are dangerous. If you get out of here, ask Klein, he has a file for you.” Ian closed his eyes.

“No way, Nottingham. If we get out of here, it’s together.”

“It is good of you to say, but we know it’s me they want. The interrogation I can handle, but I don’t know about the other, the drugs...If they try to put me back…”

“We’ll get through,” Jake said. He was hoping he sounded more confident than he felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who worried about the cliffhanger, trust me, you did not want this bit before it was done. Thank you to those reading. Here is a long one.


	46. Danger

Sara was thinking when Irons' voice brought her back to the present. “While I know that you have promised to stay at my side, Sara,” he said, breaking through her distraction. “I believe you have been more than clear about your lack of interest in my body.”

Sara blinked twice and then realised that Irons had removed his shirt and undershirt, and was clearly preparing to change clothes to accommodate the body armour. Of course he would never be seen less than perfectly turned out, even in the midst of a crisis.

“I’ll just…uh...” She turned her back and started to key her com. It was certainly not as suggestive as he had been, but it also showed that he was at least trying to act normally. They were both more comfortable that way. Sara wondered briefly if his abrupt backing off had more to do with Ian than with his desire to support their story. It definitely cast a different light on the argument earlier. It also explained so much that she should have seen it before. Ian practically worshipped Irons, and for his part, Irons kept him close, maybe a little too close. It also explained Irons’ burning rage at Carter, and why he had never told Ian what their argument was about.

“Detective,” she heard her name being called over the comm.

“Yes?”

“There is a call coming in trough the switchboard for you, a Doctor Po. She couldn’t get trough to your cell phone. Tol’ you that tower was flakey.”

 _Ass covered_ , she thought. “Can you patch her through, or do I need a house phone?”

“Can do, detective. You’ll not be alone though,” O’Connell warned.

“If it’s Vic, it’s about those slugs. Might need you.”

“All right, detective, hold.” A moment and a couple of clicks later, Vicki Po came on the line.

“Hey Sara, I’ve been trying to reach you. What the _hell_ have you gotten yourself mixed up in?”

“Cell signals been going up and down, sorry. What’s up?’

“Got Evans over in the lab to run those rounds off the books. You owe him, big,” the coroner told her.

“What. Tell me.” Sara had a suspicion but she needed confirmation.

“He pulled prints, started to run them and got more flags than a Fourth of July parade. He’s smart, he stopped it, dropped the data to a flash drive, erased everything and then explained it away as an error, fat fingered the typing, but still, something set off all kinds of alarms.”

“Shit, Vic, tell you me have the flash drive?” she asked. Right now she needed the data, well that and a hacker, but the second part was easy.

“Yeah, in my pocket. Not sure what to do with it, though, with you out in the wilds. Sara, what the hell kind of trouble are you _in_?” Vicki asked, concerned for her friend.

“I’ll tell you later, promise, and no trouble, well not me, not exactly. Where are you? I need that info.”

“I just stepped out, dinner break, I’ve got bodies stacked up from that accident on the GW yesterday. I’m heading over to the deli to get something to eat, but…”

“The Stage Door, over on 8th?” Sara asked.

“Yes, but…”

“O’Connell, got that? Can you…”

“I’ll ‘ave a team there before her order’s done. Tey can get it on the system.”

“Sara, what the hell, who…”

“I’m on an open channel or not exactly open, but we aren’t alone. Things here have gotten serious and I’m running out of time. I need that information. Trust me, please. Lives may depend on this. The person will have a Vorschlag security ID,” she said urgently.

“All right, but I’m not sure what you are going to get besides a lot of ‘access denied’. You owe me, too,” her friend told her.

“I’ve got someone who can handle that side, and two pounds of good coffee work?”

“Make it three,” Vicki said.

“Deal,” Sara told her as the ME hung up. “O’Connell, I assume you can…”

“Can do. No one will even know I was there. I’ll even close all the doors behind me.”

“Don’t need to know. Don’t want to know,” she said, and signed off.

“Sara, news?” Irons asked. She turned to find that he had indeed changed while she was busy. Elegant as always, he’d put on a shirt with a band collar, no tie, and to her trained eye, just big enough to cover the fact that he was wearing the body armour, though clearly the body armour had been made to fit him.   _Only Irons would own made to measure body armour_ , she thought. Over it, he’d put a simple blazer, basic black like the trousers, though that was usually Ian’s gig, only the grey shirt relieving it. The blazer was there only to cover the pistol which she could see was no longer on the bed.

“Those rounds, found fingerprints, but they set off an alarm, actually a whole lot of alarms, when a friend tried to run them. But Vicki got what information there was to have out of the building. Your men are on it,” she told him.

“Not mine, Sara, yours, until Ian is back. May I do anything to help?”

“Yes, you can pay for the coffee,” she told him, ignoring his comment. She didn’t want to think too closely about the fact that Irons had literally left his security force, some of the best trained private security in the world, in her hands.

“Easily done, and I will make sure it is worth it. Now, I believe that you too need to change,” he said, pointing to her own gear.

Unlike Irons, Sara had no need to hide that she was armoured. After all, she had ordered it for the team, it was expected. She picked up the heavy vest.

“Hate these things,” she said.

“Yes, but like me, you need to be protected. Ian would be devastated if something happened to you.” Under the heading of another thing she didn’t want to think too much about, she ignored him in favour of getting geared up. It was going to be a long night.

 

With a certain amount of effort, and a lot of help from Jake McCartey, Ian had gained his feet, though none too steadily, and made his way to the sink. The water tasted of rust and possibly mould from disuse, but thanks to the time of year, it was cold and it was wet. He took a moment after quenching his thirst to throw some on his face, and even wash off his arm.

At least the drugs were breaking down, thanks to a combination of his enhanced metabolism and the protection offered by the genetic modifications. “Better?” McCartey asked.

“Some,” he told the other man. “There are windows up there.” He nodded to the light that still crept around the edges above them.”

“I'm guessing, though shouldn’t the sun be down by now?” Jake asked, looking reflexively at his watch, which still failed to work.

“It’s artificial, possibly some kind of security light, or a street light. The question is, do you think you could get to them?” Ian asked him.

“Dude, no offence, but you are in no shape to hoist me up there, and I doubt I could lift you. Then there is the wall, it’s cinderblock, nothing to free climb with,” Jake assessed with more honesty than tact.

“I have enough strength,” Ian told him. “I cannot guarantee that will be the case after they come back again and they will come back. They want the secrets that my body contains. Eventually it will probably occur to them that it would be easier to get those answers at autopsy.”

“You don’t think…” Jake started.

“I hope, the other option is vivisection."

Jake tried to push down the nausea that crept up at the thought. He wanted to discount what the other man was saying, but he couldn’t, not honestly. These things didn't happen, not in real life. It was the sort of thing that was relegated to comic books and old movies about mad scientists. But as much as he would like to think otherwise, he was well aware that this was _not_ a normal situation. Nottingham himself was proof of that, proof that people did still do those things. “All right, we’d best do this now, then. We don’t know when they are coming back.”

 

Sara and Irons reentered the sitting room. Foster was still there, and Klein had gone, as had Miss Leighton, but beyond that it was pretty much exactly as they left it. Mendoza and the doctor were just being shown in. Mendoza was sporting a bandage on one side of his head but at least he was cleaned up, while the doctor looked a little unsettled.

Doctor Immo, who Sara had never met before, though she’d heard him mentioned, was a slim man, probably in his sixties, though she wasn’t all that good at judging. Irons said he’d delivered Ian and one thing she did know for sure, was that she and Nottingham were the same age. Once again she wondered about Irons’ age. It was definitely another reason for the secrecy. Irons could pass for anywhere from late thirties to a well preserved sixty, but he had to be older than that. He had been involved with Elizabeth Bronte, and she was a spy in World War II. Sara was pretty sure that he wasn’t a kid then either.

The doctor looked at her and blinked. “Detective Pezzini,” he said, holding out a hand to her. The Witchblade tingled, but she managed to hold on. Now was _not_ the time. She nodded and he moved on to Irons. “Kenneth, has there been any word…” he started, but at Irons’ curt shake of the head, he stopped.

“Sorry, I know it’s been a rough day, but I need to get some answers and you two are what I’ve got,” Sara said. “Mendoza, you good?” she asked.

“Yeah. Pissed as hell, sorry sir,” he said, reflexively, but Irons just shook his head. “But it was just a graze. I wanted to…”

“Nottingham would have had your head if you had tried,” Nikolai told him. “And you know this.” The man nodded.

“What happened?” Irons asked as he gestured for the two men to join him. Foster just watched, so far holding his tongue.

“We were putting the doc’s things in the back. I told him to get in and grabbed the last case. Nottingham and McCartey were keeping watch and then this truck came out of nowhere, moving fast. It has some kind of mounted lights that were strobing. Then the gunfire started. Benson slammed the back, and I was next to the door. I saw Nottingham go down, McCartey was over him, covering him. One of the bullets grazed me, that’s when I lost my com.”

“Any closer and it would have been your ear,” the doctor observed.

“David.” Irons warned, and the man quieted.

“Yeah, well, like I say, I was by the door, and McCartey ordered me to get the doc out of there. I just jumped in and floored it. I think they were thinking that it was the doctor they were after.  Me too, honestly, figured if I could get them to follow me…” He stopped.

“You did the right thing,” Irons said. The tone was reassuring, at least for him. It was also a dismissal. The man stood, nodded, and left.

“I don’t get it,” Foster said. “We’ve been working under the assumption that it was Irons they were after. So the question is, did they want Nottingham, or do they just want him out of the way?”

“Why choose?” Sara asked


	47. Chess with a mad scientist

Shortly after that, Foster left, either to consult with his higher ups, or to report what they knew. Sara would kind of like to believe that it was that easy. She didn’t like Foster, but then she wasn’t supposed to and she was almost entirely sure it was deliberate, him playing bad cop. Unlike Carter though, her supernatural slime ball detector didn’t light up, or no more than it did around anyone who pissed her off. Then there was Ashford, he seemed nice enough. Besides he was less likely than any of the others to irritate her in an already tense situation.

Nikolai was relieved by Jennings, and the doctor went to get ‘settled in’, saying he would join them for dinner, and something about assuming it would be a the usual time. Not that Sara thought she would be sitting down with Irons, but they did have to eat. She just wished she had a good excuse to get Irons alone to plan. As it was, she had his word that he had a way out, which was the only reason she had given up the idea of cracking him over the head and leaving him, that and he was right, as much as she hated to admit it. She hadn’t been able to give herself over, but the Witchblade had been sending random…something's to her. Ian was in danger, and Irons had the right to be in on the rescue. As long as they could get to him in time. That was a thought she couldn’t deal with right now either.

Miss Leighton had returned and was discussing something with Irons, and Ashford had replaced Foster, politely putting himself out of the way. Could it be him? She wondered. He was definitely on her unlikely list.

“Detective?” O’Connell called.

“Go.”

“I’ve got something you need ta’ see,” he told her.

“How? I…” she started, pausing when she realised that she had no choice but address him publicly.

“Just a tic,” he said, and she could hear typing. “Miss Leighton’s there, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Sending it through to her pad,” the Irishman said, all trace of his usual joking tone was gone. A moment later, she watched as the PA looked at her pad, slightly confused and then handed it to Irons.

“Sara, I gather you need to look over the security schedule,” he asked smoothly. “Since the arrangements have been changed, and some people reassigned, Klein sent it for you to review.”

“Yeah, sure,” she said, accepting the tablet and hoping she was playing along better than she thought she was, either that or Ashford wasn’t paying that much attention.

On the pad was what they had been expecting. The prints attached to a file that was sealed, Federal. Under her breath she cursed silently. “Looks good, pretty much what I expected,” she said to Irons and O’Connell both.

“I’ll have more for ye later. A pad will be coming up to you,” the tech said before she could ask.

“Okay.” She handed it back to Irons. They had suspected, but now she was sure that the Feds either knew who it was, or it was one of their own. The question was, were they there to catch someone that they already had an eye on? She was almost sure that this wasn’t a sanctioned operation, too many casualties, but it didn’t mean they didn’t know who it was. Ian had said the auto arrestor was being developed with an eye towards military and law enforcement agencies, and Vorschlag had a lot of government contracts.

Suddenly Sara had an idea, a very ugly idea. Unfortunately right now there was nothing she could do about it. As she handed the tablet back to Irons, the pain began.

 

The door to the room opened while they were still figuring out their plan. “Hey, good, you decided to feed us?” Jake asked leaning casually against the wall going with full on smart ass, while Ian sat looking, well trying to look like he was not recovering as well as he was.

“Shut up,” one of the two men with guns shouted. The other one threw a couple of things into the room, then slammed the door. “What was that?”

Ian reached out carefully and picked up the packets. “You asked to be fed. It’s…almost food,” he said with a shrug. He handed over the other packet to the detective. “MREs, at least we don’t have to worry about being poisoned.” Ian read the outside of the packet. “I take that back, pork patty. Well, detective…”

“Think you should probably call me Jake at this point. So Nottingham, I think there is a little problem with your plan,” he said. Ian was already tearing into the package. Considering his hyped up metabolism, just clearing what they had done out of his system was probably burning more than he had. After watching for a moment, Jake followed suit.

“What problem?”

“Assuming we can get me up there, and I can find some way to get the boards off the window, ignoring the potential of bars or anything else, there is no way I can pull you up there. Maybe we would be better off trying…”

“No. You go, get out. You can bring back help,” the man in black said.

“No way, I told you, I’m not leaving without you. Think about it this way, I show up without you, Sara is going to have my head. She’s already going to be pissed at both of us,” Jake said, going for a joke.

In the end, despite his reservations, Jake McCartey found himself climbing up on Nottingham's shoulders, trying to reach the window. “Okay, left a little. Got it.” It wasn’t exactly simple though, of course not. The window glass was mostly gone, though the supports for the panels were some of them still in place. But he could see light through the cracks coming from between the boards. “Looks like a couple of pieces of plywood just nailed up here. If I can get some leverage, and assuming they didn’t nail them down too hard.” He looked close. There was more light from up here, but he could only see a patch of open ground and what might be a brick wall in the gap. He pushed and could feel a little bit of give, so he tried pushing harder. Looking down, Nottingham was braced against the wall. “All right down there?”

“I will manage,” Ian replied.

“Watch out,” Jake managed to get his hands on of the hanging supports and pull it away. He wobbled for a moment, but Nottingham managed to hold him up.

“McCartey.” It was all the warning he got before the man suddenly let him down.

“What…” Then he realised the door was starting to open. He shoved the broken support behind his back as he slid down to sit on the floor. This time, they weren’t dropping off, though, they had come to pick up. “Hey, you guys call that a dinner break? Actually, you call that dinner?”

One of the men waved a gun at Ian emphatically. With him, another man with a gun, and a third man he couldn’t really make out. Ian rose and stepped forward. Even as he did, the third man stepped to meet him, spraying him in the face with something. For a moment he stood still, then his head lolled and he started to fall.

“Hey,” Jake yelled and jumped to his feet, but they waved him back at gun point, dragging Ian away. The door slammed, and once again he was alone in the cell.

 

Sara staggered just a little and braced her hand on the back of Irons’ chair. From the look on his face, she knew he could feel it too. He was clinching his hand, the scar on the back standing out more prominently than usual and his jaw tightening. After a moment, it receded a little.

“Miss Leighton, you may go if you like, unless you wish to stay for dinner?” he asked, offering her the option of getting out of the increasingly tense situation. The PA was smart enough to take the offer, and leave just as the doctor was entering. With him he had a small black bag, the sort one saw on old movies. Behind him came Wilson, with dinner.

 

Two hours later, Sara was ready to scream. She had eaten, sitting in Miss Leighton’s usual place at the writing desk, but even Mrs. Wilson’s amazing cooking tasted like sawdust in her mouth. Irons somehow managed to make conversation with the doctor, though she had no idea how. Klein had arrived and sent Anderson off to eat, dropping the tablet with her. “O’Connell thought you might need this, he can feed the cameras through to here, if you need them.”

Sara spent a few minutes looking over the various camera feeds, not to mention feeding a couple of suggestions to O’Connell where he was doing something probably illegal with a federal database that she didn’t want to know anything about. It was all she could to to try to ignore the gnawing fear that was digging itself more firmly in her soul.

“Sara is a reasonably good player,” she heard Irons saying to the doctor as she tuned back in. The two of them had moved to the other side of the room where a chess set was waiting.

“Oh, perhaps…” Immo started.

“Another time,” she said. She was trying to be both patient and not bite the man’s head off. They were both better at acting like this was some weird social occasion, ignoring the armed men around them. She wondered about Immo. On the surface he seemed like a nice enough man, a little like an old fashioned country doctor from a period piece. But she knew better. At best, the man was involved with some questionable genetic research, some of which had ended up with human subjects. Rather than think too much about it, she continued to keep one eye on the screen and the other on the two men and waited. She hated waiting.


	48. The way out.

After what seemed an eternity, the two men finished their game. “Kenneth, I brought a vitamin shot for you. Considering everything that is happened…” the doctor said as he rose.

“I need nothing, I’m fine,” Irons snapped back, but not as harshly as she would have expected. That was probably what alerted her. _Play along_ , she heard.

“Hey, it’s been a long haul so far, and I don't think it’s getting better any time soon,” Sara said. “I’d take all the help I could get.”

“Then _you_ are welcome to it,” he told her.

“I am _not_ the detective’s doctor,” Immo reminded him. “I _am_ yours.”

“All right, you old quack,” Irons said, though it was said kindly. Once again, Sara wondered how long the two men had known each other. He rose, and waved the doctor before him, and Sara started to follow.

 “There is no need, detective,” Doctor Immo said.

“Sara has appointed herself my personal shadow until Ian’s return. Arguing with her would be pointless. Certainly I’ve never gotten anywhere.”

“Yes, I’m returning you to him in the same number of pieces as when he left,” Sara shot back.

“As you see, David, they are equally stubborn.” The doctor just shrugged and went into the inner room, leaving them to follow behind. but the minute the doors closed, everything changed.

“Kenneth, what the _hell_ has happened?” Doctor Immo said. Sara was shocked, she had never heard anyone speak to Irons that way and get away with it. Well, anyone but her.

“They have Ian. The detective and I are going after him. I suspect that they are trying to recreate the Black Dragon project, I told you all of this before.”

“That was before they had Ian.  Fortunately, I was prepared for all contingencies. I assumed that you were going for him, and packed accordingly.” The doctor picked up his bag and opened it, pulling out a flat back case. Inside the case was a piece of kit and several vials, looking like something out of a science fiction movie. “Pressure syringe,” Immo explained. “I’ve no way of knowing what they are doing to him, so I’ve had to guess. But I would suspect that they'd re keeping him drugged, it would be the only way they can control him. The lights will work for a limited time, but too long and they risk brain damage. This is a variant of Narcan, should clear any narcotics from his system. It’s formulated for Ian’s biochemistry specifically. Do _not_ use it on McCartey. I’ve a standard spray for him.” He reached back into the bag and pulled out a bottle that Sara was familiar with. “Now, the red top, sedative, if he is hallucinating, or dangerous, same as the other one, Ian only. I have no idea what effect it would have on anyone else. The black top is a powerful stimulant, and this…Well, in case you need to get someone out of the way quietly.”

“Sedative or hot shot?” Sara asked seriously. Not that, considering the recurring pain that she was experiencing, she cared all that much about the health of the people who had Ian, or their longevity.

“Sedative, detective. Regardless of what _you_ may think, despite everything, I am _still_ a doctor first. Now, these are for the two of you, short duration stimulant,” he said, pulling out an old fashioned hypodermic syringe and bottle.

“No,” Sara said.

“Sara, we have all been under a great deal of stress and we need all the resources at our disposal. I will go first, if this is your concern,” Irons said. She hated it when he was right. She nodded as he took off the blazer and began unfastening his cuff. To the doctor’s credit, he only looked at the pistol once, then prepared the usual ritual of alcohol wipes and bandages. It was over in seconds, and Irons was walking away towards the closet. Then it was her turn. The shot took effect almost immediately, clearing out the cobwebs and fatigue that she hadn’t even known she had. Unfortunately it also made whatever she was getting from Ian all the clearer.

“You have about six hours, and when it wears off, you are going to crash hard,” Immo warned.

“If we have not succeeded in six hours,” Irons said, stepping out again, this time in his dressing gown. “It will no longer matter.” They all knew it, but hearing it disturbed Sara more than she thought it would.

She showed the doctor out of the bedroom, and out the suite door. “Lock it," she told the men on the doors. “No one get's in ‘til morning. No one comes up those stairs unless they are relieving someone and are expected, otherwise, shoot them. Got it?” Then she stepped back into and locked the door. “Anyone need the head? Speak now. Once I lock that door, no one gets in til I open up in the morning, clear?”

Ashford rose and took the opportunity to go through to the bathroom inside Irons’ bedroom. It gave him the opportunity to look around, one that Foster had been trying to get since the beginning. The bathroom was exactly as palatial as he expected. Then he let himself out. At least he could see that there was no other way out of the suite.  The closet door was partially open, suits hanging in rows, but the other door was closed.

Irons was sitting in his dressing gown in a chair before the fire place reading a book. “What’s in there?” the agent asked on his way out.

“Small personal study,” Irons said. “I do not sleep as much as I once did, it gives me a place to relax without going across the house.” He nodded to Sara to open the door. Inside, a small room surrounded by book cases, all filled with extremely old books, and a couple of artefacts in glass cases. There was only a small desk, a little bigger than the writing desk in the outer room, and one chair. Clearly it was meant as a personal retreat, though privately Ashford wouldn’t be surprised if it didn’t double as a panic room, not that Irons looked like he would ever panic, but at least he would have something to read if he had to lock himself in. Seeing it, he understood why Detective Pezzini had locked them in.

“Yes, Agent Ashford, if you are trying to put it in context of the house, that room is situated on the outside wall.”

The man just nodded, a little embarrassed at having been caught out. Still tomorrow he would be able to tell Foster. The man had become obsessed with the house. He was certain there was some kind of escape route built in. Personally Ashford was betting on the small downstairs office. “Okay, Ashford, you done?” Sara asked, waving him out the door. “Lock it up, I’m on com,” she said. Behind the federal agent, the door closed and he could hear the locks engage.

“So how do we do this?”

 

They brought Ian back again, and once again, they just tossed him into a heap on the floor. Jake rushed to his side. The bigger man was, if anything, in worse shape than before, much as he had predicted. He was shaking as if he had a chill, but he was also sweating. His eyes were open but unseeing and there wasn’t enough light for Jake to tell if they were dilated or not. “Hey, Ian, you okay?” he asked, just to say something. He had no idea how much the other man could hear or understand, but he remembered something about talking to people who were in a coma or unconscious, it was supposed to be reassuring or something. It had been a while since he had his mandatory first aid training. “Can’t hurt,” he said aloud. “Not like I’m the person you want to hear from or anything, but I’m probably as good as it gets, and better than them. Okay, dude, I’m going to try to get you over to the wall, so I can prop you up some, just in case you have to hurl.” Jake started trying to get the man up, just enough so that he could drag him more easily. He just hoped he wasn’t doing anything to hurt him. Not that Ian seemed to be in any shape to notice. It wasn’t in the man to leave anyone crumpled in the middle of the floor like that.

“Okay, Nottingham, now I’m going to hope that you are _not_ hallucinating, because if you come out of this and start swinging, I am seriously screwed.” After dragging him to the corner, Jake stood up and stretched. Ian Nottingham was a big guy. Oh, he wasn’t an ounce overweight, but solid muscle and with a good four or five inches on him, it didn’t make moving him any easier.

He took a moment to look around, then he knelt and checked his pulse, only to remember again, that while the light on the dial worked, his watch didn’t. Not all that useful, but he put his hand to Ian’s wrist. Compared to his it was racing. Ian’s eyes were moving too, but he seemed to be tracking something that wasn’t there, and he was still shivering. Not sure what to do, Jake unbuttoned his shirt. It wouldn’t fit, but he put it over top of Ian anyway. It was better than nothing. “Sorry, dude, it’s what I’ve got. You’ll excuse me if I don’t think were are desperate enough for a cuddle, not yet anyway. You’re not my type. Besides, I don’t want you regaining consciousness and punching me. Guess you were right about them. I don’t suppose Irons has some kind of tracker on you? Right now they have exactly no way of finding us. I…”

“Father…tell my father…” Ian croaked.

“Come on, Ian, tell me you are coming back. I need you. Remember, it’s going to take both of us to get out of here.”

“I’m not… Moby, what happened? What did they do to you? Is it time for me to come too?” Moby, Hector Möbius, commander of the Black Dragons.

“Your commander, okay, this is seriously not good. This is not time for a _Sixth Sense_ moment. Ian, come on, man, I need you to see live people, like me.”

“Sara, she must be protected. Can you promise me that they will both be safe?” he asked the blank wall.

“Sara can take care of herself, don’t worry about her. We’ve got to worry about ourselves right now. Actually I’m not sure why they are keeping _me_ alive, unless it’s to play nursemaid to you. Though if that’s it, it would be fucking helpful if they gave me some supplies,” the last he shouted at the closed door.

“LT, hostiles in the LZ, we have got to clear range. I need space to work. Need to drop our thermal signature.”

“Great, flashbacks,” Jake said. Then a chilling thought went through him. What if that was part of the point? He had accused Nottingham of a lot of things including being a psycho and an assassin, and while at least some of that was undoubtably true, Jake had come to realise that he was a lot more comfortable around the man. He certainly hadn’t figured he was in danger from him, or not since the last time he baited him. Now…well, the rest of the Black Dragons had gone psycho.

“Okay, I’m sorry I was being a dick, really. But Sara, well, you know, she’s special and you’re…well, whatever. But if you are going to have a psychotic break, do me a favour and wait ‘til after they come back?  Then I can be behind you. You know, ‘face towards enemy’?”

 

“Just one moment,” Irons said, shedding his usual relaxed demeanour as he shed the robe, walking towards the closet. He came back wearing a black long sleeved shirt, and carrying her backpack. “I took the liberty of having Wilson liberate it when it became clear that we would need it. Best take these as well.” Sara opened it. Inside, her handcuffs, spare ammo clip, and some other miscellaneous junk was just as she left it. She added the case and the medicine bottle Immo had given her.

“Might need these as well,” Irons said, handing her extra clips for his Walther and another one. She watched as he secured the other firearm into an ankle holster, the Berretta he’d mentioned earlier.

“What model is that?” she asked curiously.

“M1935 and yes, I have owned it for a long time, but that is a story for later.” Standing there all in black, he reminded her painfully of Ian. It wasn’t the looks, in that department he must have taken after his mother, whoever she was. It was in the bearing, the way he was standing.

“Okay, now, care to tell me how we are doing this?” she asked impatiently. Irons walked over to his nightstand and pulled out a case, a com like the one she was wearing.

“Mr O’Connell, the detective and I would like to leave. Open 11211.”

“Aye sir, been expectin’ ye.” She heard something a click and Irons waved her ahead of him to where the section of the closet wall holding the shoes had opened just a little.

“After you, Sara,” he said with a half smile.

“You were going after him yourself all along,” she accused, as he pulled the door all the way open and she followed him into a very narrow and utilitarian stairwell lit by emergency lights. He just shrugged and started down.

“Lock it,” he said. “Ready?”

“All prepared, sir,” O’Connell said. “And if I may say so, Godspeed.”

“Thank you,” Irons said.

“Thanks O’Connell. Does everyone know?”

"No, only meself and Klein, besides Mr. Irons, and of course Mr. Nottingham, now you. I’ll be with you, monitoring on private channel while I keep digging into that other little matter.”

“And ready to call the cavalry?” Sara asked.

“I’ve got them on speed dial.”


	49. Lair of the secret squirrels

After they hit the bottom, they started down a corridor. At one point they passed a closed door with a security scanner but didn’t stop. At the end, they reached another door which opened when Irons put his eye to the scanner.

“Does this go all the way under the estate?” she asked as they walked further. She was trying to figure out where they were but the blank corridors were a little disorienting. She knew that Irons' quarters were at the end of one wing of the sprawling place.

“Not exactly,” he said. “The original tunnel used to be part of an old drainage system, as I understand it.  The storm drain was in disuse when I bought the house. The owner had put in a bomb shelter and was looking to make an escape route from or to it, I simply finished it out.”

“And that was…” she asked

“Are you asking when I bought the house, Sara? Or are you trying to ask how old I am? I’ve always been told asking someone’s age is impolite.”

“Both? Mostly trying to distract myself,” she admitted. “Besides, that’s women.”

He laughed. “Ah. Perhaps you can ask me later. I might even tell you. But for now…” He stopped. The corridor had ended and there was another door. After repeating the trick with the scanner, the door opened, this time into an actual traditional drainage tunnel. They walked on quickly, or as quickly as they could, the tunnel was not made for a man Irons’ height. It was only a little damp, the water having dried up. At the end of that tunnel, they could see the opening, but there was a metal grate that blocked the way. This did not have a fancy electronic lock, just an old fashioned one which Irons had the key to.

“Hope you’ve got transport too,” Sara said.

“Naturally, I would hate for you to have to risk your position stealing a car. Actually there has always been a provision in place, not for _this_ exactly, but let us say certain actions trigger certain protocols,” he explained, waving her to precede him.

“So, like I said, you were always going after him.”

Irons looked at her. “He is my _son_ , Sara. Regardless of what you think or assume about our relationship, I _love_ my son, and I will do whatever is necessary to get him back.”

“All right,” she said and turned towards the opening. “Good thing it hasn’t rained.” Sara really felt the need to get away from the uncomfortable personal admissions, it just wasn’t the way she was used to dealing with him. _What has my life come to when I’m having a Doctor Phil moment with Kenneth Irons in an abandoned storm drain_?

“Yes, or snowed,” Irons said. She slipped out with him right behind her. As they climbed up to the road, an SUV was parked on the shoulder, a familiar looking SUV, with the hood up in the traditional symbol for ‘broken down’.

“Nice,” she said approvingly. “Keys?” He reached into the wheel well, and pulled out a magnetic case.

“We wouldn’t normally do that, but desperate times…” he said.

“Now, for the million dollar question, how do we find Ian?”

“Let’s get in the car first,” he said, tossing her the keys and moving to put the hood down. “Regardless of my preferences, I’m afraid you are going to have to drive.”

 

Jake was starting to worry more about Ian. This time, he didn’t seem to be shaking it off the way he had before, which probably meant they had done more of whatever it was they did. The good news was he’d stopped shivering finally, which allowed Jake to reclaim his shirt. The room was starting to get chilly. “And I thought that I was joking about cuddling,” he said to the empty room.

The bad news was unfortunately much worse. Ian was still hallucinating, or having flashbacks, Jake wasn't sure which. So far he had not done anything, except talk to people who weren’t there. Some, Jake was absolutely sure were dead, like the entire Black Dragons squad, but others he wasn’t. Ian had also made repeated reference to Sara and to his father, someone Jake knew exactly nothing about. “Wish I knew who the hell you were talking to,” he muttered, sitting down next to him.

“But it’s dangerous, I can’t," Ian said to this unseen companion. “Yes, it will. If they could stop fighting one another it would be for the good. It does not matter if I live, if it brings them together. There is so much to be done. Can’t you see? No, I will do my duty submit to the will...very well.” He fell silent. Jake reached for him, but he was still breathing and his heart was still beating. “Come, Sara, find us,” Ian whispered. Then he appeared to lose consciousness.

“From your mouth, man,” Jake said, patting his arm.

 

“I cannot tell you this will be pleasant, Sara,” Irons told her. They were both sitting in the SUV, seat belts fastened.

“Colour me surprised,” she said sarcastically. “Let’s get this over with. Just tell me what exactly I’m supposed to do.”

“You have been fighting the Witchblade from the first moment. I will not say this is a bad thing. It could easily have overwhelmed you. But that’s no longer the case, I think you are strong enough to hold your own, you need to relax, let it take control. It will take you to him through your connection,” he explained.

“Why can’t you do it?” she asked. She wasn’t even sure she knew how, it was all too much mystical mumbo jumbo to her. Besides, this was too important for her to fail.

“Sara, I was _never_ a Wielder. I tried, once, in a moment of grief and desperation to use it. It marked me for life, tied me to it and to you. For a long time, I thought it was meant…but that doesn’t matter. Make no mistake, it almost broke me for my arrogance. I am lucky to have kept my hand, and my sanity. Recently, I have become aware that, for all my plans, the ‘blade will have its way. I can only direct you.” There was a whole lot in what he said, and she knew he was telling her the absolute truth. She could feel it tingling. It felt like agreement. There would be time to unpack the rest of what he said later, after Ian was safe. _After you are all safe, all together_ , a voice whispered, creeping into her consciousness.

“How…”

“Relax and focus on Ian,” he said. “Don’t fight. Think of the last time you saw him, what happened…”

Sara leaned back and tried to do what he said. She concentrated on the kiss by the garage, then the way he had looked when she had woken up in his arms. Suddenly she was swamped, flooded with images, the first ones familiar, her and Ian, every moment, then further back, young Ian, and surprisingly, herself, images from their respective childhoods, though there was no connection. _Everything is connected_. Further back, someone who was and was not her, living, fighting, loving and dying together. _Too much_ , she screamed inside her own mind or at least she thought she was. _Find him_ , the voice that was and was not hers whispered. She opened her eyes and drove.

Kenneth Irons looked at her, but said nothing. He had seen some of it, though not all. It wasn’t necessary. He could feel the road before them, though. He had told Sara the truth. Oh, he might have been able to do it, but it would not be nearly as quick, he knew that time was limited and he knew that this was what the ‘blade wanted. going against it had never done him well.

 

It was close to an hour later when Sara suddenly came back to herself, no clue how she got to where she was. Actually she had no clue…”Where _are_ we?” she asked Irons. If the question surprised him, he showed no sign. It looked like an abandoned industrial park or warehouse area.

“Queens somewhere, possibly Long Island City?” he suggested. “I am afraid I was only somewhat more aware of our journey than you were.”

“You saw that?” she asked, not sure whether to be angry or embarrassed. Of course, it was his son, so…

“Only some, I was…more of a passenger. Now…”

“We are here. Okay, I need to do some recon. Somehow, I don’t think they are just going to have a sign marked, ‘evil lair’ on the door.”

“Nor do I think they are going to allow us to just come and take them away. A frontal assault is probably not the best method, no matter how satisfying,” Irons agreed.

“Detective…”

“O’Connell, not the best…”

“It’s important, or I’d not bother. Tose prints, tey belong to two former agents of the CIA,” he told them.

“ _Fuck_ , I knew there was a connection. Define former?”

“As in tey were bot’ let go after some dodgy dealings wit’ a foreign company, and by foreign, I mean one that does business wit’ places not on the US’s friends list. One of tem was implicated in tryin’ to broker a deal for the plans to some high tech kit. Tey thought ‘e was just a middle man, but ‘e legged it ‘fore tey could get more. Other one is more muscle, excessive force, suspicions of torture, and gettin’ information is ways ‘e ought not. Bot worked extensively on tech contracts.” The Irishman’s accent had thickened to the point that she was almost sure she was missing something but she got the gist.

“Great, more secret squirrels,” Sara muttered while Irons managed a quiet stream of what might have been expletives if she knew the language or languages. Suddenly, something struck her. “Projects like a high tech auto arrestor based on EMP?”

“Aye, like and…”

“And the Black Dragons,” Irons said.

“Nah, not in long enough, but…”

“O’Connell, if Irons and I are on the same page, wonder of wonders, run them against any projects Doctor Carter was involved in. Then, full work up on Carter and what he’s been doing. Deep dive, I want _Everything_ ,” she said.

“If I ‘ave to do it fast I’ll not necessarily be able to be delicate ‘bout it.”

“ _I_ will deal with that, should it come to it,” Irons said. She could feel fury coming off him. “Get it _all_. Also, run the list against the agents in the house, anyone that has worked with any of them. Someone is about to find out _exactly_ how very bad an enemy I make.”

“All right. Now, we are going radio silent til you hear from us. We’ll let you know when we’re clear,” she told him. “Irons, you good?”

“I should have killed him when I had the opportunity,” he said.

"Not going to argue, but nothing that can be done about that. I’m going to do a quick check, you follow,” Sara told him.

“Do you still not trust me?”

“Right now, I’m not sure I trust _me_ either, but if it comes down to it, I’ve got the badge.” He subsided, more or less gracefully but she could tell he was agitated, no great surprise there. Sara started carefully towards the nearest building. The place had the sort of neglected look of places just far enough away from everything to make them lousy squats. A row of brick and cinderblock buildings, facing another just like it. The occasional emergency light and metal roll up doors that had served the loading docks when these had been warehouses or factories, or both. Some had boarded up windows, others mesh, and all looked vaguely disused. The asphalt was cracked and had weeds growing, and most of the upper windows had been either broken and left, or boarded up. “I hope…” Then she saw Danny, standing outside a building on the other side, the last one in a row. It looked like the others, well, on first glance, but as she looked closer, she could see the security light was a bit brighter, the roll up door newer, and unmarred by graffiti. “Shit. It's that one, but I see at least one security camera, which means there are more. So, direct assault and we run the risk of them killing Ian and Jake. Got any ideas?”

Irons thought for a moment. He studied the layout. “Possibly,” he said, pointing to the last building on the opposite end of the roof. “If a ground assault is not possible…”.

“Hmmm, well, we are definitely _not_ going to get out the way we go in if we do that,” she commented.

“But Sara, you never planned to anyway.”

“You’re right. I’m first. You get Ian and the rookie. I want to get those guys alive if possible, but I’m going to burn their little torture factory down,” she told him. He just nodded.

 

The first part was easy enough. They managed to get around to the outside. Breaking the lock on the window grate for what was probably at one time the boss's office, was the work of seconds., and the window underneath was long gone. The floor was concrete, and after Irons boosted her inside, he followed. The place was empty, littered with trash and debris. She pulled her flashlight out of her backpack and headed to where experience told her they would find the stairs. Next to them, she found the heavy steel fire door, which told her the buildings were connected. Helpful if they needed a secondary plan, but it was probably noisy as hell, and rusty. She didn’t want to have to go through four of them either, that would probably make enough noise to alert someone. Instead they went up the stairs.

At the top, they found what they needed, bolted to the wall, the metal ladder gave them access out onto the roof.

 

The trip over the roofs was only slightly nerve wracking. Sara didn’t _hate_ heights, but she didn’t love them either, not when going along roofs of uncertain repair. The hatch on the last building was of the solid sheet variety, which didn’t make her happy either. It meant going through blind and praying they weren’t walking into someone, an armed someone. But the choices were nonexistent, or at least good ones were. She could call it in, but there was no way of counting on what would happen when the cops showed up, and she wasn’t going to risk it.

Carefully, she pulled up the hatch and peered down. There were no lights on the floor below her and no signs that there was anything on the upper story, but she could see a faint glow from further down the stairs. Feeling slightly better, she slipped down the ladder, noticing that Irons, without a word, had drawn his pistol and was covering her until she was down.

Still, just to be sure, they did a quick look around. It was, indeed, empty aside from trash and the skittering of what were probably rats, but looking at the floor in the light of her flash, she was pretty sure she knew why they weren’t using it. The floor was warped and didn’t look entirely safe. Instead they turned back to the stairs.

Down to the next level, she heard movement and paused.

“Don’t know why they’ve got us out here,” a voice travelled up to them. “Nothing happening, and Mike has the cameras covered. No one’s doing anything at this hour.”

“Because they don’t want to handle Nottingham without a lot of backup. Not that he’s in any shape to do anything,” the other one said.

“Yeah, but…”

“Don’t underestimate him. You weren’t here when they tried reprogramming the others. Trust me, it could get ugly pretty fast. At least this time, they've got a better handle on their metabolism. Not that it mattered. They broke out, three dead, but by that time they had figured out that the poor bastards were too far gone, psychotic, suicidal, homicidal. Word is, Nottingham took them out after they went for Irons.”

“Hmm, why’d they go for Irons?” the other guy asked. One floor up, they wanted to know too.

“Don’t know that. I think it was something subliminal in the programming, but what do I know, I’m not a lab rat.”

Sara could feel Irons stiffen beside her, but there was no time for that now. She went into her backpack for the syringe and loaded the sedative, waiting for the other sentry to go off. After a few more minutes of chatter, one of the men went away. Sara handed the syringe to Irons. She had her pistol and one very pissed off piece of jewellery. Besides, at the moment, she didn’t necessarily trust the man with a gun. They waited a moment longer and crept down. The man was standing with his back to the stairs, watching the entrance. Irons waved Sara back, and made a motion. She shrugged. He moved as silently as Ian did, coming up behind the man and putting an arm bar across his throat. Sara rushed down. The man was trying to flail a little but Irons had him firmly. “Well?” she asked pointing to the sedative. He looked at her, and she could see in his eyes the temptation. “Come on,” she hissed.

Reluctantly, he raised the pressure syringe and hit him. The man slumped and Irons let him fall away from him. “Could have saved a dose,” he told her.

“Get it under control,” she shot back. “That’s one. From here on out, we can’t guarantee we aren’t on camera. I would count on it. The only reason I don’t think we are now is no alarm. If this place is laid out the way they usually are, there are going to be offices right inside on the corridor, maybe bathrooms, and then at the end, access to the main floor, probably a factory when it was built. If I were them, I'd have them in one of the rooms. Take my backpack and the case. I’ll go in front, break the locks, you find Ian and Jake and get them out of here. Once you’re outside, call O’Connell and the cavalry.”

“And what, pray tell, are you going to be doing?” he asked, as he took the fallen man’s pistol and secured it in his waistband.

“I’m going to make sure their lab, this stuff, it doesn’t ever see the light of day. I told you, I’m going to burn it down.” Irons nodded. As they rose, Sara felt the Witchblade come to life. Irons threw open the heavy steel door, which was remarkably silent on its tracks.

They started down the hall. As Sara predicted, there were several closed doors. The first was unlocked, and throwing open the door revealed nothing but storage. The second was locked, but the ‘blade made short work of it. Inside, they found Jake and Ian. That was also where their luck ran out. An alarm blared out. Sara cursed. “Looks like they know we’re here. Get Ian,” she said and kept going. She couldn’t worry about them now.

 

“What…” Jake said, looking owlishly at the open door and seeing Irons and Sara in the light. Moments later, the man was in the cell, while the alarms blared.

“Rescue, Sara has gone to.. that’s not important. I assume that you have not been drugged?” Irons asked.

“No but…”

“Here,” Irons said, pulling the pistol he’d taken from the fallen guard. “You are going to have to cover then.” Jake took the pistol, deciding at the moment, he didn’t need to know more. Instead, he moved to a position just inside the door, one eye on Irons who was adjusting something on a weird gun shaped device, all the while talking to Nottingham in a gentle voice that McCartey wouldn’t have thought him capable, in a language that was not English. There was a hiss like a compressed air cylinder and he saw Nottingham stir. “Shhhe, not yet, you’re still weak,” Irons said, removing the cylinder and replacing it with another. Behind him, Jake heard gunfire. He looked down the corridor and considered following Sara, but right now, they needed him. The alarm was still blaring but so far, if anyone was responding they were where she was. He heard a second hiss behind him. “What…” he asked. He’d done pretty much a 180 on Nottingham, but he still didn’t know about his boss. Irons was putting everything back in a case which he closed and dropped into Sara’s back pack. “The first, Narcan, or something like it, and the second was a short duration stimulant to help clear his system. We thought it best not to wait. Now…” He stood and looked down at Ian before offering him a hand and pulling him to his feet. “Ian…”

“I’m fine, sir,” he said, though it was clear he wasn’t. He was standing but not steadily. Irons put an arm under his to help him. “Sara…I…” he started.

“Sara is fine,’ Irons said firmly, as from the other end of the hall they heard what might have been a small explosion. “And that, I believe, is our cue,” With his hold on Ian, Irons took a moment and drew his pistol, handing it to him.

“You haven’t let me handle this since I was twelve,” Ian said softly. He was looking clearer by the moment.

“Detective McCartey…”

“Point, got it,” he said as he led the two men out of the room and into the hall. “Which way?”

“Left,” Irons said, following behind. They heard more gun fire from behind them, then, as they approached the door, it sprang open.

Jake levelled the pistol and fired. The first man staggered back and fell, but behind him, his companion kept coming, swinging at the other man who was too close to get a good shot. Caught flat, without space, the rookie was shocked when Irons came in behind him and swept under the other man’s raised arm. He followed through using the momentum and his own weight. The man went down as Irons dropped to reach his ankle.

“Irons no,” Sara said where she appeared in the door. “O’Connell, call it,” she said. “We’ve got to get out of here, the lab's on fire.”

For a moment, it looked like he wasn’t going to comply. “Sir.” One word from Nottingham. He was propped unsteadily on his feet against the frame where he’d been left, the pistol in his hand. To Jake’s surprise, Irons nodded. The man on the ground groaned, and without pause, the older man turned and landed a precise kick to his jaw.

“He will live,” was all he said. Then he returned to Nottingham, again helping him. With Jake on point, they started in the direction that Irons indicated. Behind them, Sara shoved another unconscious man out and left him on the ground. In the distance, they could hear sirens.

 

If anyone had ever told Jake McCartey he would be rushing away from a burning mad scientist’s wet dream in a vehicle driven by one of the richest men in the world, while his partner cuddled an injured Ian Nottingham in her arms, he would have asked them what they were smoking and considered a field sobriety test. They had made it to the black SUV and, once Ian was in, Irons had told Sara to join him. “I will drive, he needs you.” Jake was pretty sure he was missing something, like at least half the story, but his partner climbed in and settled next to Nottingham.

“Sara…” Ian started.

“Shhh, Ian, I’m here, we both are. There’s time later. Rest.”

Jake slid into the front passenger secant and buckled up. He was exhausted and he felt like he’d been in a fight with a bear and lost. A few minutes into the drive, he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, super long, but I hope worth it.


	50. Homecoming

Jake woke up to the sound of Irons, clearly talking on the com. He wasn’t sure he had ever heard the man angry, but he was certain he never wanted to be on the other side. Listening, it was and was not less threatening than Nottingham, perhaps differently threatening was right.

“Get Miss Leighton out of bed with my apologies, and prepare those files. She will need to get the contact information for you, Oh, and send them the logs as well so they can close the back doors, it’s only polite. I want the head of regional operations on the line. I _will_ have them all out of my house as soon as possible after I arrive, by force if necessary. If the CIA wishes them back in a state to question them, they had best make good time. I want them all secured on my signal, and I want eyes on Coleman and Phillips. You may shoot them if it becomes necessary…Just a moment,” he paused, this time clicking the ear piece.

“So, not sneaking back in then?” Sara asked.

“No. Now, Sara, if you would be good enough to give McCartey your com,” he asked politely.

“Ummm, okay” she replied sceptically.

“Who…what?” Jake asked.

“The time for subterfuge is over, Agent McCartey. I suggest you notify your superiors, have them ready to come to the front gate. O’Connell will connect you, and you can give him what he needs to forward the information he has gathered. Might as well have all the players on the field. Do not worry, the wrong people will not know that we know, you may be sure your cover is secure.”

“Cover, what? Rookie?” Sara asked from the back as she handed the com forward.

“Later, Sara, there will be answers when we have finished,” Irons told her.

Jake plugged the com into his ear and heard O’Connell. He gave the Irishman the number, and the email address, and waited. Moments later, it began to ring. “McCartey, Jason, 53627,” he said when the line was picked up. “I need a team. Yes, data is incoming, it will be coming from a Vorschlag address, it goes straight to the director of the New York field office.”

“Do you have any idea what time it is? He’ll…”

“When do you want to explain it to him?  When he’s caught flat footed by the CIA, or when Irons complains?”

“Okay, but what…”

“Just get him the data, and tell him…tell him the Irons’ mansion.” On the other end of the phone he could hear the sharp intake of breath before he got his confirmation and rang off. Then he passed the earpiece back to Sara. He was too tired to be embarrassed or to worry about how pissed she was going to be. Besides, right now she seemed to have bigger things to worry about.

“Well done,” was all Irons contributed.

A moment later, Jake was kind of wishing he had kept the ear piece as Irons was once again on the line. “Yes, I am quite aware of the time, thank you. Now, I suggest you review that information and act on it now…Make no mistake, you _have_ no choice, or rather you _do_ , but consider this very carefully. I can and will call the director personally. If I have to get him out of bed, who do _you_ think will pay?” Irons paused, then responded, his voice several degrees colder. “Never presume to suggest you know _how_ far I am willing to go. Challenge me on this and it will go very badly for _you_. Unless you wish to find yourself doing field work in the most miserable hell hole…Of course, I thought you could be reasonable. Be prepared, if they cause trouble, my men will not hesitate. Thank you.” He clicked off. Jake was sitting in shock, trying to figure out if he had just heard the man threaten to get the Director of the CIA out of bed. It definitely made him glad that he was on the right side.

“I’m surprised that you didn’t threaten to call the President,” Sara said sarcastically.

“Oh, I would have if it became necessary, but the First Lady is considerably less fond of being woken up.” Jake wished he could believe the man was joking, but he couldn’t. _Well, you wanted to know what it was like to have that kind of power_ , he reminded himself.

“Do we have an idea of those involved, a list?” Ian asked, showing that he was, in fact, conscious. “Do we know who is behind it?”

“You should be resting,” Sara and Irons both said. _Great, and those two are agreeing. I should be seeing the flying pigs soon_ , Jake thought.

“I _am_ resting, Sara. But I will rest more easily if I know.” Sara looked up and met Irons’ eyes in the mirror.

“Okay, the slugs came back to a couple disgraced agents,” Sara began. When she was done, there was a moment of silence.

“Son of a bitch! _That's_ what you just had me send to my boss?”

“As you say, detective,” Irons responded.

“But who…” Ian asked.

“At the house, and with the right overlap in projects? Coleman and Phillips, there are couple of others who are question marks. Oh, and Fredericks. I should have done more damage to him while I had him,” Sara commented. “But the big fish is Agent James. Unfortunately he’s not locked down, thus the need to get the rest of the circus involved, and we don’t know who else. O’Connell was working fast, he didn't have time to be as thorough as he would like and he was not exactly subtle about it.”

“But who is behind it all?” Ian asked, a suspicious look on his face. “You know he’s not got the…”

Irons started to say something but paused in response to something on the com. “Yes, allow the call through,” he said. “Foster is not going to enjoy this. Do you have eyes on both our targets? Good, and have Miss Leighton and Immo escorted down and secured in my office. If, when cornered, they wish to start shooting, I prefer both of them safe. A good assistant is hard to replace, as is a good doctor.” He stopped talking.

Jake was watching the road. He was actually surprised that Irons not only could drive, but was good at it. Thinking about the road ahead was better than thinking about everything else, like the explainations he was going to have to give Sara. He’d caught enough even without being plugged in to know that they were potentially walking into a confrontation. With that thought, he decided to check the weapons that Irons had given him what seemed like a century ago. It was in good working order, a standard issue Glock .9mm. “So, what are we walking into?” he asked. “Besides a jurisdictional nightmare.”

“That depends entirely on our opponents. Foster will no doubt be told to stand down and follow instructions to see how things play out, but he will not be happy about it. The order to clear them will be given to coincide with our arrival. Our other guests should arrive shortly thereafter. The question is, _what_ will our targets do.”

Outside the car, things were starting to look familiar and the sky was starting to brighten. Jake wasn’t sure if it was the proximity to the end, but Nottingham had not asked again. It was definitely a subject for later. Behind him in the mirror he saw Sara checking her weapon and replacing the magazine from the backpack. Nottingham was also looking over the pistol in his hand.

“Positions,” Sara said, presumably to someone on the end, no doubt listening to the responses. “As soon as he gives the order. Okay.” It was about that time that Jake realised that not only were they approaching the mansion, but the gate, and that at speed. “Now,” Sara said. Jake was starting to worry when he saw the gate moving. It was going to be close, he realised as he closed his eyes. “All right, O’Connell, take it all down, everything but our coms.”

Moments later, Jake heard the order to close the gate, and opened his eyes. “All right, Jake, you are with Ian,” Sara said. “Irons…

“No, Sara,” Ian interrupted. “I…”

“Don’t argue with me, Nottingham, not on this. I don’t care _how_ recovered you are, you’re not bullet proof, neither is he. Irons and I have body armour. Not that I am expecting a shoot out, but I just got you back, I’d rather be safe.” The SUV came to a stop in front of the house. Irons took a moment to draw his back up, then he and Sara got out as a couple of men converged on the front.

“Welcome back, sir,” one of them said as Ian got out. He acknowledged with a smile. Then the front door opened.

Sara looked at the butler. If he was surprised, he gave no sign, but there was a hint of something like relief as he looked at them. When he moved aside to let them in, she was almost certain that he, too was armed and armoured. “Sir, Mr Klein is bringing our unwanted guests to the great room, it seemed the most practical. I gather that Agent Foster told them to stand down.” Irons nodded but as they walked past, he put an hand on the butler’s shoulder, just a brief bit of reassurance.

“So, do we have everyone, O’Connell?” Sara asked.

“Last one is just comin’. Seems when Foster gave the stand down, and communications went, Mr. Phillips decided he was no longer interested in our ‘ospitality. Unfortunately ‘e had a bit ‘o disagreement wit’ Brutus and Cassius.”

“Hmmm.”

“Don’t worry, Sara. I’m sure Agent Phillips has had his shots, they won’t catch anything from him,” Ian said smiling, when she relayed.

“Just hope it doesn’t upset their stomachs, no one likes a rottweiler with an tummy ache. Let’s get this over with, you need to rest.” Even as she said it, she could feel the shot starting to wear off and she wanted to be in a bed before that happened.

If things had been tense before, they were positively explosive now. Ian insisted on walking unaided, but Sara still had he and Jake behind them. The agents were gathered in the room, some looked as if they had been roused from their beds, others confused, and a couple downright angry. Above them, several of Ian’s men were standing on the library rail, not to mention at every door. “What is the meaning of this, Irons? My boss called me and ordered my men to…” He stoped as he caught sight of the two men behind them. “You _did_ go after them yourself,” he accused. “I _knew_ it…”

“Nope, I had Irons with me. But that’s not important now. What you need to do is shut up and listen,” Sara told him.

“Why you…” He took two steps towards her when Ian raised the Walther.

“I would consider your next move very carefully. After what I have been through in the last twelve hours, I have an excellent case for extreme emotional disturbance.” Foster had the good sense to back down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, originally this was going to be the last chapter. Unfortunately I ran out of time as I was writing, and the hand only moves so fast. It was wait, or post what I had. Enjoy.


	51. Jurisdictional housekeeping.

“Now, gentlemen, shortly, my men will be escorting you to collect your belongings and you will be leaving my property,” Irons said. “This started due to some threats to my person. However, even as we speak, the responsible parties are being dealt with so…” As Irons was speaking, Coleman began fading back towards the back of the group.

“I’d stop there, Coleman,” Sara said.

“I’m not…”

“What you are not going to do is move another step,” she said. “Nikolai?”

“Have you preference, detective? From here I could put it wherever you like, leg, arm, maybe an ear for Mendoza?” the man said from above them.

“You see, Foster, Coleman here, and Phillips have been leaking information from inside the house. Along with a few others, they have been using you, and the agency to line their pockets. “Now, as soon as…” The com beeped once.

“Sir, there is a Special Agent Rowlands out front, as well as a gent ‘o says ‘is name is Proctor, FBI…”

“Gang’s all here,” Sara commented.

“Indeed. Allow the two of them to come up to the house, only the two of them, and under guard. If they wish to be involved, they will do it on my terms,” Irons said. “We will take this into the office. Agent Foster?” The man just nodded solemnly and followed.

The guard on the door knocked twice and the lock was disengaged from inside. They opened to door to revel Irons’ assistant and Doctor Immo. They were both looking a little less polished than usual but if there was any surprise they both hid it well.

“Good to see that you are all right, sir,” Miss Leighton said, the only sign that anything might have been out of the ordinary.

“I will…” the doctor began.

‘When we have finished, David, you may…” Irons started.

“No,” the doctor disagreed. “I will just give them a quick look. As long as waiting will do no harm, I will agree.” Irons nodded. It was clear that the doctor was going to do his duty, and Sara thought the man appeared to actually care for Ian. Of course, she could see it in Irons, now that she knew what to look for, she could feel it. How hard had it been for him to keep going, not having time to do more than the briefest checks? But this allowed another option without him doing anything. The doctor sat Ian in one of the chairs and did a quick once over. He had his bag with him and Sara wondered if he slept with it. He tutted over the bruises, and whispered a few things that were probably as close as he got to four letter commentary on the state of Ian’s arm. He did what Sara generally classified as ‘medical stuff’, looking in Ian's eyes, listening to his heart and lungs, and taking his blood pressure before deciding that he would live. He cleaned and bandaged the man’s arm, told him he needed rest and plenty of fluids and finished up. “Detective McCartey,” he said when he finished with Ian.

“Who me? I’m fine, just got tazered,” the young man said, confused, as Ian gave him the chair. The doctor just continued to look at him. Finally Jake sat and got his own once over, after which the doctor pronounced him mostly unscathed, and took himself out with Miss Leighton, who Irons was dismissing with a few quiet words. As they left, the other men were escorted in. Ian insisted on standing next to where Irons as sitting behind his desk, in opposition to both Sara and Irons, so she opted to stand next to him, while Jake decided to stand on the other side. After the introductions, the doors were closed.

“So what’s all this about? And what’s he doing here?” Foster started angrily, only to meet a sharp look from his superior.

“This is what we know. I am sure you gentlemen will need a more thorough review but you will pardon me for having no interest in that. What we know is that technology has gone missing, or rather, has turned up in places it shouldn’t. A mix of things, some projects that got discontinued or were deemed too dangerous in the hands of people who shouldn’t have them. We stumbled onto it accidentally. The threats against those involved in the Black Dragons brought everyone to my door. This is what I suspect happened, a year or perhaps a little more ago, the ‘brains’ of this scheme decided to resurrect the project, create a super soldier, very lucrative if it could be made to work.”

“Carter,” Ian spat. Sara could feel his rage, and reached to put a hand on his arm.

“As you say. He was on the project, he believed that given a chance, access to everything and no limitations, he would be able to…”

“He…they thought they could make it work? But…” Rowland started. He had lost a lot of his bluster, and his bad cop attitude, about time he had been asked by the director to see to detaining his colleague, on suspicion of being involved in selling the very things to the very people they were charged with protecting the country from.

“Apparently, from what we overheard tonight, they started with trying to reprogram the others,” Sara told him. She did not let go of his arm.

“So that’s…” Proctor said. “We wondered what happened when the last few turned up dead.”

‘Yes, but that will be a matter that can be cleared up once the principles are in custody,” Irons said, derailing that line.

“So all this was…” Foster began. He seemed to also be having difficulty with the situation.

“At best, a ruse to get agents who were working with them into the house to discover if we had more information than was never given to those working on the project,” Irons told him. “There were multiple attempts at bugging several rooms in the house, including this one, as well as attempts to access the secure Vorschlag system. You can understand why we assumed it was at your order?”

The man just nodded. He did understand. “That’s putting the best face on it,” Sara said. She was starting to fade, and she wanted to get both her and Ian into a bed before they fell down. Irons was probably in the same shape, but he was an expert at hiding it. “Worst case, they wanted to get in here, to get a hand on one or both of you.”

The other men just looked at her as if they had never considered the idea. “Well, obviously my people weren’t involved, though we should have been included once it became clear where it was leading,” Proctor says.

“It was an international…” Foster and Proctor bickered for a few moments before Agent Rowlands stepped in.

“The original project involved the DoD, along with several other countries, the NSA and a few other people that we absolutely neither need nor want coming to the party at this point. CIA was brought in both because of the international nature of the situation and because Carter and two of the other scientists were working on a project with national security implications, which makes this situation a lot worse. James is gone, so is Carter. It looks like they both pulled up stakes and disappeared almost literally ahead of us. Proctor, we are going to need to coordinate this hunt. Unfortunately, you can’t be any more certain about your people than we can. Over the years, Carter’s done a lot of work for a lot of agencies. We are going to be mole hunting for at least some time. At least thanks to Mr Irons’ people, we have a template for the search criteria.” Irons merely nodded.

“But I don't understand how they managed this long,” Foster said. “I just..”

“That, gentlemen, is _your_ affair, as is what you do with your colleagues out there. So, if you would be kind enough to leave and take your men and your jurisdictional scuffling _out_ of my house...”

“Mr Irons, we would like to leave a couple of men, just until…”

" _Why_ do you think I would trust anyone you would send?” Ian asked incredulously, while Irons simply raised one eyebrow.

“No reason,” Rowlands admitted. “But I was hoping to have someone here in case they show up. I’m not expecting anything, and your security is more than good. If they were smart, they cut their losses and are heading somewhere warm with an iron clad non extradition treaty.”

“Or a couple of mine,” Proctor offered. “No history.” Foster started to say something again, when of all people, Jake McCartey spoke up.

“How about a couple of each?” Everyone turned to look at the ‘rookie’. “Look, there’s a whole lot of trust issues going on and even though they have a right to know, you can’t just read Mr Irons or Nottingham in. So, how about an agent from each of you, as liaison, and a couple more for the grounds, external only, no interfering with the house?” Jake suggested. For a moment there was silence, though whether they were deciding on arguing or agreeing was anyone’s guess.

Finally, Irons looked at Ian, then he spoke. “Very well, Detective McCartey, as you say. Foster, Rowlands, I would suggest choosing someone new. Mr. Klein will see to having them cleared. Proctor, yours as well. Now, gentlemen, it has been a long night, so please, _get out_.”

Everyone hurried to comply after that. Sara took Ian’s hand. She knew he was at the end, holding on by force of will only. “One thing, gentleman,” he said as they left the office and went back into the great room. It was one of those times when she wondered why she had never seen that he was Irons’ son. Coleman was sitting handcuffed between a very angry looking Michaels and a disgusted looking Ashford while the rest were between shocked and shooting angry looks at anyone and everyone. “If Agent James, or Doctor Carter make it onto the grounds, don’t expect to come and arrest them.”

“Mr Nottingham,” Foster said. “If they get here, I’ll just send over some body bags, no questions asked.”

 

A moment later, after the agents had been escorted to collect their equipment and Proctor and Rowlands had followed, once again arguing jurisdictional protocol, Ian began to sag.

“Come on, Ian, let’s get you to bed,” Sara said.

“I should go back to my room.”

“Okay, I don’t care as long as there is a bed. I’m still coming with you. Promises, right?”

“Yes, Sara.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it looks like the end, but it's not. There is actually a little bit left to this. Enjoy.


	52. The calm...

The departure of the butler left Sara with Irons, Ian, the doctor, and Miss Leighton. “Sir,” the assistant started. “I should get my things. I can return to the office…”

“Tomorrow. I know I have not been as attentive as I should be. We can meet in…” He paused and checked his watch. “Call it 1:00 in this office. Take some time, I know this has been an imposition. Feel free to use the pool if you wish. It has been a difficult two days. One more day will matter little.” It wasn't exactly a request, but she nodded and took her leave.

The doctor, for his part, wanted to drag Ian off for a more comprehensive examination, but Sara wasn't going to leave him and the last of the drug had burned off. She was starting to weave, so they compromised. Immo could examine Ian in his rooms. “It will be fine, Sara,” Ian assured her as they made their way through the house.

She had been right about the location, it was near the central control room. She was also almost certain it was one of the rooms that connected to the escape tunnel or whatever it was. It was also, if her sense of direction was correct, directly beneath Irons’ suite, though a couple levels down. Like the suite above, there was a sitting room, though unlike Irons’ there was no fire in the fireplace and most of the ‘art’ on the walls consisted of very old and very deadly looking weapons. There was one painting though, one that started that familiar tingle but she blocked it out. Ian directed her to the bathroom where she could clean up and turned himself over to the doctor.

She was reluctant to go, but they were both on their last legs. She barely even looked at the bedroom as she passed through. The bathroom was large and well appointed and Sara was sure she would appreciate it, later. Instead, she stripped out of the heavy vest and dropped it to the floor. She didn't have anything to change into, but at least she could get clean. Nerves and adrenaline left her feeling the need for at least a quick wash up, even if she wasn't necessarily safe in the tub.

 

“Well, it looks like there is no permanent damage,” the doctor told him. “I'll need to take some blood, of course, try to establish what it was that they were giving you and why. Then you can get some rest with your detective.”

“She’s not my…” he started.

“Ian, I think I know _what_ she is, and it's clear she cares for you.”

“That was only for appearances. It is possible things have changed somewhat, but I have not spoken to my father and she is…”

“Yes, she _is_. Ian, listen to me. I have known your father for decades, since before you were born. He loves you and wants your happiness, even though he is not good at showing it. If he had an objection, you would already know. Besides, perhaps this is for the best,” Immo said as he deftly drew blood from Ian's  undamaged arm. “Now, go get yourself cleaned up. I prescribe a lot of rest, food, and water.”

 

Ian went into the bedroom and pulled out a clean tee shirt and some cotton pants as Sara came out of the bathroom. She was wearing just her tee shirt and…well he didn't know where to look. She was holding the rest of her clothes and the vest over her arm..”Sara, I…”

“You okay to get cleaned up by yourself?” she asked, preempting any other emotional discussions that neither of them was in the condition to have. It was not the time or place for that and she didn't have the energy to deal with it. She sucked at the emotional stuff on a good day.

“I will manage,” he replied, realising what she was doing. “Would you like…” He held out the tee shirt to her. Surely it would be better than the one she was wearing, not to mention being clean, longer, and less distracting.

“Thanks,” she said. “Go on, I'll be here when you come out.” Ian pulled a second shirt out for himself and started towards the bathroom. “Hey Nottingham, if you take too long, I'm going to have to come in after you,” she told him, smiling.

“I…I will endeavour to be quick then, so as not to cause you any more work,” he said, blushing as he disappeared through the door.

Standing under the shower, Ian cleaned up and tried to figure out what came next. He wasn't sure what had happened. When he’d left, he had just secured her agreement to have dinner with him, now…There were the strange dreams or hallucinations, possibly visions he'd had when they had drugged him, then there was the rest, Sara and his father working together to bring him, well, them, home. The ride back seemed like a dream. Even with the medication his father had given him, he had been out of it, in the back of the car with Sara's arms around him. Immo was right though. His father had been the one to tell her to get in with him. Of course his father didn't like having someone he didn't know behind the wheel either, but he was certain that wasn't it.

Rather than worry or continue to chase those thoughts around, he finished and climbed out of the shower. For now, he was too tired to think. He got dressed and went into the bedroom. Sara was already in the bed, his shirt sliding off one shoulder. “Sara, are you…there is no need for appearances, Mr…”

“Ian, come on, we are both too tired. Think we are past appearances anyway. Besides, the other thing, I know.”

“Know?” he questioned.

“Irons, you, I know he's your father, “ she told him.

“You…how…” he sputtered. It was not what he was expecting.

  
“He told me. Why do you think I let him come along? Should have figured it out earlier, but that's for later, for now, come to bed.”  As tired as he was, he was certain it would take forever to fall asleep, but instead, the moment he was in bed, Sara curled up against him and he knew no more.

 

“They are asleep, sir,” Wilson said. “ I took breakfast, but I didn’t think waking them…”

“No, let them sleep,” Kenneth Irons said. He had already cleaned up himself and knew he should be resting, but he was having a little difficulty settling. He wanted to go and check on his son, much the way he had when Ian was a child, but he knew his presence was neither needed nor desired.

“Sir, you should follow their example,” Wilson said. Irons smiled a little. It was as close as the other man would come to offering advice or opinion.

“I will, soon,” he told his long time employee. “Very soon.”

 

It was past noon when Jake McCartey woke up in a really comfortable bed. The room was nice, much nicer than the quarters he had been sharing with his opposite numbers. Now he really was seeing what the other side looked like.

After everyone had been shown the door by a couple of Ian’s men, he’d gathered his duffle and followed the butler to a room on the corridor with Sara, the doctor, and Irons’ assistant. One look at the room was enough for him. He took a very long shower in ridiculously hot water that didn't show the least sign of running out anytime soon. 

When he finished, and came out, there was a tap on the door and Wilson (‘just Wilson, sir’) came in with a tray. He already knew about the cook, she was amazing, so he ate the big breakfast, sparing a brief thought to his partner and her boyfriend, probably already sleeping off the last twenty four hours, and then fell asleep.

Now he was awake and genuinely had no idea what to do next. He grabbed the house phone and got an outside line, since they had not retrieved his cell, and called in. His boss told him to stay put, at least until the liaison arrived and to call Dante with a particularly well scripted version of events detailing what he could say (and what not to). He didn't tell them about the file that Ian had offered him. Jake wanted to see what it was and double check the info. Not that he didn't trust Ian, he did. It was hard to go through what they had and not learn some trust, but he liked to do his due diligence. Besides, he wasn't entirely sure Ian wanted it known where the information came from.

Unfortunately that line of thought led to some other places, some uncomfortable questions, ones he had no answers for, and there were only two people who could help him with those answers, like what Irons and Ian had known and when. Not exactly sure what to do about his questions or anything else, he got up, dressed, and decided to go downstairs to see what was happening.

Outside, the hall was empty. After this long, he knew his way around, at least to some extent. He was giving serious consideration to whether to head down to the kitchen to get some of their coffee or to head down to the security room to see Klein when Kenneth Irons emerged from his room alone.

“Agent McCartey, or would you prefer detective?” the man asked, as calm and collected as ever. In fact, last night was probably the first (and, no doubt, the last) time he had ever seen Irons in anything less than complete control. He should ask Sara about that, about why she chose to bring Kenneth Irons with her on a rescue mission, and possibly about his relationship with Ian. But he certainly wasn't going to ask the man himself.

“Detective is fine, better, at least while, you know…”

“Of course. I trust that you are rested?” he asked. “If you are looking for your partner…”

“No. No, I figure she and Ian…well, you know, need time, rest, and stuff.” Jake knew he sounded like an idiot, but he still had no idea how to deal with the man.

“As you say. Well, if you are hungry, I'm sure that Cook will…”

“Yeah, I was just headed that way.”

“Very well,” Irons said and turned to go, clearly feeling he'd discharged his job as host.

“Mr. Irons,” Jake asked suddenly. “How long did you know, about me, I mean?”

“You? Since you became Sara's partner. Ian had certain concerns which he chose to discuss with me, though not the details.”

 _Of course he did_ , Jake thought. He was thorough like that. Not but that if he had gone behind her back and done that, she would have handed him his head. Of course, he wasn't dating her, and besides, there was a question of how much Sara knew. “So then, you knew the whole time? What else…”

“Ah, detective, I know a great many things,” he said, turning away again. “However, if you want my opinion, I think you made a serious error in regards to a certain young lady of our mutual…acquaintance. She is quite lovely, and very talented, but then you knew that, I believe.”

“Son of a bitch,” Jake muttered under his breath. He had known the entire time. Of course he was also right, which didn't make Jake feel any better. Rather than put too much thought into having just been called an idiot for giving up the girl that Irons had very recently been sleeping with, he decided to head for the kitchen for coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a little bit. I've been having some life issues, but here you go. Do that thing...


	53. New Day?

Kenneth Irons stood outside the door, one hand raised. It was not in his nature to be indecisive but at this moment, he hesitated. He wasn’t concerned that he would disturb anything untoward, they were probably both still asleep, though he was keeping himself locked down at the moment. It was the rest. He had accepted that this was destiny, reluctantly, but it wasn’t making it any easier.

Of course, he had wanted to follow Ian and the doctor, to check and double check that his son, his only son, was alive, safe, and uninjured. He wanted to sit by the bed and watch over him, the way he had done when Ian was a boy, but he couldn’t. His son was a man, and despite his own sudden descent into sentimentality, he knew that it was foolish.

Then there was the other side. How would it feel? How should he feel seeing Sara, the identical form to his lost love, sleeping in his son’s embrace? He had supervised Ian’s courtship, carefully tutoring him in exactly what he needed to know, never telling him it was not just appearance, that he was guiding him into a new role, one he had never been prepared for. In hindsight, it was a role that Irons was not prepared himself for Ian to take. The whole time, he had been trying not to think about the logical conclusion, to shield himself from any mental eavesdropping. Knowing that it was the correct move did not make it any easier. Suddenly, he felt his age, all of it, in a way he had been more frequently recently.

After a moment he turned and went back the way he had come. Miss Leighton would be expecting him, and she was very prompt. It was one of the many things he appreciated about her.

 

Sara awoke in the darkened room, wrapped around Ian Nottingham. Just two days ago, she would have slipped very carefully away and prayed he didn’t notice. In fact, she had pretty much done just that. But that was before, before he had been kidnapped, before she had realised exactly how close they had gotten while she had been trying to push him away and trying not to think on what was happening. It was when she realised that she had feelings for him. Now, she just shifted a little closer and wondered what had woken her up.

Slowly she looked around the room, but nothing appeared out of place, or not that she immediately recognised. Then Ian tossed in his sleep, and called out. “Keep them safe, I cannot lose her again.”

Without thinking about it, she tightened her hold on him. “Ian, I’m here, I’m safe, we all are. We are all here together,” she whispered, remembering as she said it the words that had come to her when she had let down her guard, one of the last clear thoughts she had before her mystical gps trip to LIC. It didn’t bear thinking about, not then, not now. After a few moments he settled down, but he did not relax his hold. Sara decided that as long as he slept, it didn’t much matter. Besides, she was comfortable, and if she was honest, she needed the closeness as much as he did. Things had definitely changed.

The second time she woke up, it was in response to a light tap on the door. Ian’s eyes were also open, looking down at her as if he was trying to believe what he was seeing. “Come,” he ordered, probably deciding it was a better option than questioning.

The door opened to reveal Wilson. “I have come to inquire about food, are you ready to eat?” If the man was surprised to find the two of them together, he said nothing.

Ian looked at Sara. “I could eat,” she answered. “But I’m more concerned about you. All that…”

“Yes, and coffee for Sara.”

“Mr Irons asked to be informed when you woke.”

“Oh, I should…” Ian started to rise, but Sara held on.

“No sir,” Wilson said. “After you have eaten will be soon enough.” The man started to leave but turned back at the door. “He has been concerned. I will tell him you are awake. We are all glad that you are safely home.” Then he was gone. Sara looked at Ian.

“I’m going to guess they know too,” she said.

“What, that I am his son? Yes, Wilson has been here from long before I was born. My…” He paused. It was hard to get over the habits of a lifetime, even though clearly it was not an issue any longer or not that issue anyway. “My father once said that Wilson was the last link to his past.”

“Not cryptic at all then,” Sara commented. “Another thing that you come by naturally.”

“Sara, what are you doing here?” he asked.

“Waking up?” she suggested.

“I…you know…”

“Ian, not before coffee, okay? Things have changed, we both know that. They already were, but we shouldn’t do this, not yet. I’m an expert at foot in mouth, I’m going to screw up if I try without sufficient caffeine. Hell, I’ll probably manage with coffee, so cut me some slack.”

 

Wilson stepped into the office and Irons waved for Elisabeth to pause where she was reading back a rather pointed letter that was going to make someone very unhappy. The man came in and said a few quiet words in his employer's ear. “Thank you, Wilson, keep me informed. Now, Miss Leighton…”

“I trust Mr. Nottingham is well?” she asked.

“He is…” Irons replied slowly. She could see it, the sudden suspicion, the lifetime of caution that she no idea the root of, but she knew she had best tread carefully.

“Sir, I know,” Elisabeth stated.

“You know…” he asked, waving one elegant hand for her to continue, and for the first time she found herself afraid of the man.

“Mr Nottingham, he’s your son, isn’t he?” It wasn’t really a question, and she met his eyes.

“And what would lead you…”

“I had my suspicions before,” Elisabeth elaborated carefully. “There are certain mannerisms, when neither of you are on your guard, which is rare, admittedly, but the situation has been unusual. But when he was taken, suddenly, I just…I knew. I don’t know how it’s possible. You must have been…”

“I am older than I look.” He cut her off. “I am impressed. Few people know, and even fewer have worked it out themselves.”

“They have probably not been in such close quarters with you as we have been recently. It’s none of my business, sir. I only said something because I am sure you are concerned and I didn’t…well, I am your assistant. Confidentiality is part of my job. I would never betray you.”

For a moment he was silent, looking at her, as if appraising her for something, though what, exactly, she didn’t know. “Miss Leighton, I think I believe you. I do not trust lightly, do not make me reconsider. Now, where were we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long. I know this story doesn't have a lot of readers, but I think I will finish it soon for those of you who are still with us. Please, do that thing you need to do.


	54. Clean up

By the time that breakfast had arrived, they had both gotten up and had a quick clean up. “Ian, can you tell me what happened while they had you?” Sara asked as he emerged fully dressed from the bathroom. If she was honest, Sara was a little disappointed. It seemed he was disappearing back behind the barriers, the black shirt covering him from neck to wrists, hair bound up tight again. Not that she could blame him, things had changed suddenly and dramatically, but he had every reason not to trust her. Certainly in the past, she had been the one to swing at him. “I caught part of it,” she admitted, trying not to let her disappointment show.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t...” he began.

“Ian, don’t you dare apologise for what those assholes did to you. You were drugged and tortured. Irons and I both saw part of it but we were...well, suffice to say, things were pretty tense here. Later, we need to talk about you giving control of security over to me, and if I never have to spend that much time locked in a room with Irons, it will be too soon,” she told him. “But you have got to remember, none of this, none of what happened to you, then or now, was your fault. Irons...”

“Sara please, let us not fight about my father.”

“No fight, I don’t understand him and I don’t necessarily think I want to, but right now, I want...” She paused. It was all so difficult, the case, the faux relationship that was actually turning out to be real, or at least she was pretty sure that’s where things were going, then there was Irons. The two of them were probably never going to see eye to eye. “One thing at a time. I want to know what happened to you while they had you. Then, well, I don’t know. Let’s take it one thing at a time.”

“So do you want...” He started, pulling back from her a little.

“No, what I don’t want to do is go all the way back. Come on Ian, it’s too early for this.” Sara held out her hand and he took it, smiling shyly. “We can eat, and you can tell me everything you remember while I drink enough coffee to become fit for human company.” They sat down at the small table, but she did pull her chair closer to his and settled down to eat.

Ian looked at her every few moments just to make sure she was actually truly there and he was not hallucinating. Sara was really there, sitting next to him voluntarily, drinking coffee, eating. How could he give this up? The way she was smiling at him, the feel of her in his arms, it was amazing and terrifying at the same time. But would he have to? Immo was right, the feds had been gone. If his father objected...It was more than he could think about right now. Stay in the moment, that was the answer. He needs you, he heard his father say as they got into the car. What did it mean? He could certainly feel his connection to Sara, stronger than before. He reached out rather carefully for his father. Irons was almost completely locked down, but there was just the merest brush of something...reassurance perhaps.

“Ian,” Sara said. “Careful. I mean, I’m sure you’re hungry but...” He realised he had become inattentive to her in his musings.

“I’m sorry, Sara, I...”

“Will you please stop apologising? Come on, Ian, just talk to me. We were doing pretty well there.”

“About what, Sara?” he asked, pouring himself a cup of tea and offering her more coffee.

“Anything but this case for the moment. Jake...”

“That is for him to tell you,” Ian said. “I owe him that much at least.”

She sighed, even though she knew he was right. Instead she watched him serve himself more eggs and sausage. “You have got one scary appetite,” she commented.

“Overactive metabolisim,” he replied with a shrug. “Especially with my body trying to clear the drugs out of my system and heal.” He looked at her. Already Sara could see that the bruises on his face were fading, and she wondered about the rest, but, considering, she thought it might be the wrong time to ask.

“Helpful.”

“Sara, why did you come for me?” he asked cautiously.

“What do you mean, why? Really? You knew we weren’t going to just let those assholes keep you. Though I would have left Irons if I could have,” she told them. “Not but what he was useful. Never tell him I said that. Honestly, we were both planning to come for you from moment one. I wasn’t going to take him, but...”

“That’s why he told you,” he stated, realisation hitting him.

“Well I suspected something. I mean, I was starting to put it together. When you said he raised you, I put down some of the similarities I noticed...”

“Between us? I...” Ian asked, disbelieving.

“Sure, mannerisms, not to mention, last night...well, I can see where some of your physicality comes from. But like I said...”

“I will say nothing,” Ian assured her with a smile.

“That’s more like it. You know, you have a nice smile. Pity you don’t do it more often.” She reached out and put a hand on his arm.

For the first time it struck him, this was really happening. He and Sara, no more need for pretence, no cover, just the two of them, and she was touching him voluntarily. “Not a lot of use for it in my line of work but for you...” For a moment, he just looked at her, then he leaned over and kissed her. It was the first time he had initiated a kiss, and Ian found himself so shocked by his own boldness that he almost let go, but Sara reached up and cupped his check, extending the gentle kiss. Slowly, they separated but Sara didn’t back away this time. “All right?” she asked.

“Getting there,” he answered, his dark eyes shining at her. “But...”

“No buts. We’ll figure this out, just...Ian, I don’t know what’s happening and I’m really bad at relationships. I’m a workaholic, bad tempered, l keep people at a distance, and those are my better traits. That’s before we factor in this thing,” she commented, waving her wrist at him. “Or your father for that matter.”

“So...” he asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“One step at a time,” she told him. “But you are going to have to do your part. That means trying to be partners, not jumping or backing off just because I’m pissed.”

“I will try,” he said. Inside though, he was unsure. _What do I do if my father has changed his mind, can I go back? How will I explain? Can I go against his wishes for Sara?_

“Now, we had better finish up. I should check on Jake and...”

“And we need to find out what’s happening. I should also check in with my father.”

“That’s going to take some getting used to,” she told him. “Not that...it‘s just a pretty big thing to keep secret so long.”

“No bigger than yours,” he said, nodding towards her bracelet, at the moment completely quiet.

“Oh no, that’s ours. I’m not doing this alone, and you two have been volunteering from moment one.”

“No, Sara, you don’t have to be alone, not again,” he said to her.

 

After breakfast the two of them left the room somewhat reluctantly. “I should go get changed,” she commented. “I mean, my clothes are still...”

“We can go to your room, unless...” he paused.

“Yes?”

“I know you want to get back to your apartment,” he replied, trying to resist reverting back to his habit of looking down.

“Yeah, I do, but...I’m going to call in. I think maybe after yesterday, this morning, whatever, let’s see what we know that we didn’t before. Then, maybe...maybe I should stay at least tonight.”

“And where...”

“Think we can get my stuff down to your room?” Ian felt his heart leap. Regardless of what happened from here, Sara was suggesting, well, at least another day together and another night.

“I can have it done,” he told her. Ian hoped, prayed that it would be allowed. This was not a conflict he wanted.

“Sure, sounds good. Let’s scare up that info, and...well, you should probably go see Irons.” He acknowledged her comment. It was clear that Sara was still coming to terms with his father.

 

They found Jake in the staff room with a very tired looking Klein, and a large pot of coffee. “Hey, you two, feeling better?” Jake asked, starting to rise. Sara waved him back though.

“I’m recovering, Jake, I want to thank...”

“Nah, man, it’s good.”

“Sir, if you don’t mind...” Klein said. “The liaisons from both bureaus have been cleared by O’Connell and...”

“I can finish, dude, you are beat,” Jake said.

“Thank you, Klein, you can go. You have certainly gone over and above...” Ian began.

“No more than you, sir. Detectives,” he said and rose, heading for the door. As he went through it, Cook came in with more coffee and a pot of tea.

“Now, you get some more of that in you. Not but what you need is more sleep,” she chided all of them. “The rest of the staff will return tomorrow. Hopefully all this unpleasantness will be dealt with by then.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Ian said, smiling.

“Now don’t you go ma’aming me, Ian Nottingham,” she said. “We are glad to have you home.” Then she left.

“So, let’s do the business stuff first,” Jake said. “Nikolai and Anderson are off sleeping. O’Connell is going as soon as he finishes with the last background checks. We’ve got one extra man for every one of the gates, and the doors, though no one is saying how you and Irons got out last night.” It was a hint, but one they chose to ignore, so he continued. “They are interrogating those guys from the warehouse, the ones still alive and moving. The one I shot didn’t make it, and I’m going to have to go through a review, but I’m not expecting anything to come of it. The one that Irons took down is still in the hospital and they found a crispy critter inside, there are still questions about whether he was alive before the fire.”

“As far as I know, there was only the one that started firing on me, and he made it out. But the numbers...do either of you know how many there were? There was the guard we sedated, and his buddy, I’m pretty sure he’s the one you shot, Jake. They also mentioned someone monitoring the cameras, but I didn’t find a camera room, so he might have been offsite. Ian?”

“I’m sorry Sara, I was...”

“There were three that came to take Ian away,” Jake told her. “The guy I shot was definitely one of them, the other two, I don’t know. One of them kept to the shadows, and the light was bad to begin with, he sprayed you in the face with...well, I don’t know what.”

“Yes, I remember that, but I’m afraid...” he looked up and Sara put a hand on his arm. She didn’t want him beating himself up for this anymore than she knew he was. Meanwhile, she had some things to work out with Jake as well.

“Anyway, they’ve flagged James and Carter, if they try to get out of the country or use their ID’s there are going to set off more bells and whistles than the Macy’s parade. So, I’ve got to ask, how did you find us? I mean, they stripped me down pretty thoroughly and I’m sure you...”

“Microchip,” Ian said, taking Sara’s idea.

“Like dogs?” Jake asked.

“No, like soldiers. It’s meant to store medical records, and important information, scan it, read blood type, allergies, anything important. They’ve been working on it for years, experimental, they started when I was still in service, but we’ve managed to refine them.”

“And you let...”

“I was the right person, and I already had one. But this is not exactly what it was meant for, I am surprised Mr. Irons remembered or could find a way to scan for it.” Sara breathed a quiet sigh of relief. She wasn’t sure what she was going to say but Ian’s explanation was good. In fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if he was pulling it from something Vorschlag R and D was working on, nor that he wasn’t planning on putting one in his father.

“Hey, I’m a believer, really. When they are ready, I’ll be the first to sign up. I was seriously starting to worry. You were hallucinating, talking to dead guys and...well, you called for Sara, and for your dad,” Jake added uncertainly.

“I am not sure what I was seeing,” Ian commented. “It’s all a blur.”

“Probably better that way,” Sara said. “Now...”

“I should check in with Mr. Irons,” Ian told them. He knew that Sara and Jake needed time to talk and, like the conversation he was about to have, privacy was best.

“Yeah, I’ll catch up with you. I’ve got to talk to the rookie, and, no offence, I’ve had more than enough of your boss for a while.” Ian smiled and left them.

 

When Ian arrived, Irons was in the inner office with Miss Leighton, but the moment he entered, his master sent her off, waving him inside and gesturing for him to close the door behind him. The moment the door closed, he assumed his usual position, but within moments, Irons waved him over. “You are well?”

“Yes, sir,” Ian answered carefully. There were so many things he wanted to say, to ask, but he had no idea how to begin.

“You have questions?” his father asked. He was not going to make this easy.

“You came for me, you and Sara.”  The words tumbled out almost as an accusation.

“Yes. Did you believe otherwise?” Irons asked carefully. He knew Ian was trying to keep himself shielded, but he knew his son well.

“You should not have, the risk...” Ian began. He hadn’t been entirely certain what he was going to say, and this was certainly not the conversation he should be having, but still it was bothering him.

Irons looked at his son and, not for the first time in recent days, wondered if he had made an error in the boy’s training.

“You are my son, and...”

“And you can have other sons,” Ian reminded him quietly.

Irons closed his eyes briefly. “Another son, would not be you. I believe that I may have made a grave miscalculation in your training if you believe otherwise. Fealty, loyalty go both ways. Besides, what of Sara? Would you leave your Wielder unprotected?”

“You...”

“No. That is not my destiny. I know that now. You were, and you have surpassed all of my expectations, this is what Destiny wishes. But enough of this. There are other things you wish to discuss,” Irons said, quietly. It was not time to lose his composure. “Now, what else do you wish to ask?”

“Sir, Sara and I, my...” he started. His heart was hammering, but he knew he needed to say it. Kenneth Irons looked at him. He was going to make him say it. “I don’t....”

“You are concerned. You find you cannot return to the place you occupied before?” his father asked.

“My duty...”

“How long has it been since Sara was merely duty, hmmm? You have developed a certain _affection_ for her?”

“Yes, sir.” Ian tried to deliver his answer calmly.

“And she for you, I believe.”

“Yes, sir. I will not lie to you, she and I have become...closer.”

“And she knows of your connection. Did you think you could hide it from me?” Ian started to answer, but Irons continued. “You are concerned. You do not want to be disloyal, but you find that you cannot go back, and you are being torn apart. Did you think I would require it of you?” he asked, looking the other man in the eyes. After a moment he continued. “Still, it doesn’t matter. The Witchblade has chosen you, more important, Sara has chosen you. To fight against it would be the basest folly,” he said, rising from his chair. “You are my son, and certainly you are a worthy...consort.”

“But I failed, I was taken...” Ian started miserably. Instantly, Kenneth Irons knew what was troubling his son, and again he cursed himself for the thoroughness of the lad’s training. He had told himself it was to protect Ian, even as he made himself allow the shields between them to drop while the boy was gone, sharing a little of the pain, to remind himself of the necessity. Who was it that he had been protecting, really, then or now?

“You did not. The test was not yours but hers. A test to see if she could let go enough to save you. If she could overcome her fear and prejudices, to work with me and to surrender.”  He paused carefully.   “Perhaps...perhaps the test was mine as well, to see if I had learned. Now, you should return to her. This is not such a...distasteful thought is it? She is a beautiful woman, yes?”

“Yes, but...” Ian was still having a hard time accepting what he’d just been told. His father was not expecting to give Sara up, not only that, but was encouraging him to... “You knew.” It was almost an accusation.

“I considered it and I was prepared for that eventuality. I told you before a sacrifice might be necessary. You know what preparation is.” Irons reached out and took his son’s chin in his hand, looking him in the eye. “Regardless of everything, I am proud of you. Now, go to her, she needs you as much as you need her. Leave me.”

“But sir, this...” He tried to find the words. “You left me unprepared. How...”

“I did not prepare you for this, it is true, and for that I am sorry, but I doubt you will have too much difficulty. Look into your memories, it is not the first time you’ve done that,” his father reminded him, thinking of a time when the link between them had been unpredictable and emotions had bled over. “In this you must find your own way. Besides, you are still my son, I doubt you will find it difficult.” Ian felt himself blush, but fortunately at that moment his father released him and turned. “I had always envisioned a scenario in which she would become a member of our family. This was not exactly what I had in mind, but...” He shrugged, an ironic smile playing around his mouth. “Now go,” Irons said, dismissal clear as he sat himself behind the desk again.

He had just reached the door, when his father addressed him again. “Ian, I have never been one to express my emotions, a failing perhaps, but that doesn’t matter now. Know that I want you to be happy. I...love you.” The last was said so quietly that it was almost inaudible.

Ian paused with his hand on the door. “You never needed to say, father, I knew.” He opened the door to find Sara on the other side.

“All good?” she asked.

“Very,” he said. “You?”

“The rookie will live. But we can talk about that later, and about what you knew and when. So?” she asked.

“It’s...It will take some adjustment, so much has happened, so fast.”

“That’s the truth. Conclusions?” Sara asked.

“I think...I think that we have both been ordered to rest. I would like...us to get to know one another better,” he told her with that shy, sweet smile.

“I think we are doing pretty good so far, but we can always do better. What about him?” she asked pointing behind her to the office.

“He needs some time as well,” Ian said as he took her arm and led her away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It would be easy to end here. It’s a good place to end. But of course, it’s not. My life has been chaotic and my writing schedule is a mess but here it is. Please do the thing.


	55. The past comes calling

Evening had come and Kenneth Irons had sent his assistant off, letting her know that she would be able to return to her own home tomorrow. Ian had come to check on him, but he’d sent him off as well. Right now, he needed time and solitude to think. He was...unsettled. He could have mentioned it to Ian of course, possibly done something with the security arrangements, but honestly he didn’t much care. Most of the day had been tending to business matters that couldn’t be put off, danger or no danger, but even that had barely held his attention. It had also been spent keeping himself closely guarded, everything locked down. He thought Miss Leighton might have been concerned, she had asked if he was feeling well, but probably put it down to the stress of the day. Not that he wasn’t aware of what was happening, pleased even, or as pleased as he could be by the turn of events.

That something was going to happen, of that he had no doubt, but what that was Irons neither knew, nor, at this moment, particularly cared. Instead he sat alone in the great room, a brandy in his hand, trying not to think too much about any of it. He looked at the picture of Elizabeth Bronte that he’d taken from the drawer where it usually hid. “What would you make of this?” Kenneth asked the silent picture, not expecting any answer of course.

“Which part?” He paled and looked up to see Elizabeth Bronte standing in front of the stairs leading up, looking as she had when he’d had her portrait painted all those years ago.

“Am I dying then finally, is that what this is?” he asked. Never before had she appeared to him, certainly not when he was awake.

“Well, you are certainly closer than usual. Nor are you doing anything to prevent it, sending the children off like that,” she told him, sarcastic as ever.

“I am _not_ suicidal,” he snapped. Inwardly, he cursed himself. All the things he wanted to say, all that he’d wished for, and what did he do but try to start an argument. “Does it amuse you, to see my son...”. The words were out before he realised it.

“No. Stop this, Kenneth,” she said to him, the words were sharp, and a little sad.  He bowed his head. He knew he was acting poorly. “You know why, it is the only way.”

“It is certainly not the way I...” Kenneth paused. He knew it was unworthy, everything he had said so far had been, and if this was what he got then he could not waste it.

“You expected there to be enough of me awake in her that she would fall into your arms,” Elizabeth said perceptively, smiling. She always had known him well.

“Sara hates me,” he said.

“She had to, otherwise you would have tried to make her into me.”

“You...” Kenneth rose from his chair and stepped towards her. “Perhaps you are right, love.” He sighed and reached out for her.

“Don’t,” Elizabeth said, sadness in her voice. “You are not _that_ close yet, and it will only hurt worse,” she told him, a tear forming in her ghostly eye.

“At least _she_ will have someone to protect her, unlike...” He paused. This was not the conversation he had ever imagined having with her, when he allowed himself to imagine it at all.

“You could not have stopped it, not matter what. My death, it was fated.”

“But where was...” he started angrily.

“Do you _still_ not understand, my love? Did you think your obsession was of your own making, the chance of John and the rest? The bloodlines are converging, though for what, I cannot see.”

“What...I.” It was a rare thing for Kenneth Irons to be without words, nor was it a situation he cared for.

“The differences in your blood, those that your doctor assumed are from your contact with the ‘blade? Some are, but some are not. Ask yourself why you survived your madness and no other has, and with nothing but a scar.” Elizabeth nodded to where he was clutching his hand reflexively. “It needed to reawaken what was already there.”

‘But why, for what purpose since I could not save you?” Elizabeth looked at him and nodded in the direction which he had sent his son only a short time ago. It was true, he had come to realise that Ian was his destiny, but what she was suggesting...it was hard to get his mind around. Then something else occurred. “Then what...”

“Oh, there was one before you, and he _did_ die to save me, but it was before I met you, during the war. He was a cousin of John Nottingham’s actually, though I don’t think you ever met.”

That brought other thoughts, not particularly welcome ones. “Did you...I never asked, but your daughter...” When she was alive, he had never questioned her about her past, not too closely. They both had scars from the war, and he’d always thought there would be time. Now he was wondering if he had gotten things wrong.

Elizabeth laughed. “No, as you know, while Sara _is_ my descendant, her father was not related to the Nottingham family, or not close enough that anyone knew,” she told him.

“But you said...” he began, but she stopped him.

“Protector, yes, lover, no. I suspect he would have found _you_ more appealing than I. No, my husband was an airman that I met before the war, Canadian.”

“I would have taken her, you know. I kept as close an eye on her as I could, but...”

“But my parents never trusted you,” she filled in. “It doesn’t matter, everything has happened as it must, and now, well, a new chapter begins.”

“For them,” he commented, turning away to hide the pain. “Elizabeth, I cannot...”

“You can. While at this moment you are closer to death than you have been in a very long time, you can chose to survive.”

“And if I do not wish to?” he spat. “I am tired. It has been a long time, and there is nothing left for me. I’ve done what I needed to do.  Fulfilled my purpose.”  The words were bitter.

“There is more, much more. It will not come easy, but there is something more coming,” Elizabeth said, stepping closer, though not close enough to touch.

“And if I do not want it? Why can I not simply give in to time?”

“Because it’s not in you?” she asked. “Because I have never known you to give up, even when you should have. My time _has_ come though, I must go.”

“Elizabeth, why now? Will I see you again?” he asked, trying to get in the last questions, keep her a little longer.

“Because it was necessary to remind you. The next time you see me, I promise you, then it will be time,” Elizabeth told him as she turned away. “Dismantle your shrine, you don’t need it.  I love you.” And she was gone.

Kenneth Irons returned to his chair. Already he could feel it more clearly. This was not over, something was coming, for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that there are few people reading this, but here is it.


	56. Danger

Ian Nottingham sat back and decided that he wasn’t certain he wasn’t dreaming, but if he was, he had no interest in waking up. It had been, well, he wasn’t actually sure he had a basis for comparison. After speaking to his father, which had been a shock all on its own, he had met Sara in the hall and taken them for a walk on the grounds.

“You just can’t resist double checking, can you?” she’d asked, but she was smiling.

“Force of habit?” he’d suggested with a shrug. “I...everything is...”

“One day and the whole world has changed,” Sara responded. “You are like me, workaholic, don’t relax much that I’ve seen, pretty much live the job. Of course there’s the fact that you are doing the job of at least two people. Why is that anyway? I mean he could hire...”

“Sara...”

“No, I don’t mean...look, I’m not trying to bust your chops or take a run at either of you, just curious. Besides, aren’t we supposed to be getting to know each other better?” she’d asked, leaning on his arm to reassure him. “You know a lot more about me than I do about you.”

He’d wanted to say something, explain the importance of keeping her safe, but she didn’t seem upset, so he’d decided to let it go for later. Her acceptance, like that of his father, was something he had never expected, but he would do nothing to endanger it. For a moment, Ian considered what to say. In the end, he decided on the truth, not all of it, of course, that would take time, but enough. “Accident more than anything. When I was away in the service, my father did have a separate head of corporate security. He retired shortly before I cam home. My mentor, the man who handed both personal security and some of the other things, like the house, he was going to take over. He was...not old, but...”

“But playing bodyguard is a young persons gig,” Sara’d filled in. “Besides, it would keep you...”. She’d stopped, clearly still trying to figure out things herself. Besides, she seemed to be enjoying herself.

“Exactly. He...he died shortly after I returned.” He’d stopped, it had been a long time since he’d thought about that day, the shots, the blood, throwing his father into the car, the pain as he was hit, and the black clad figure dead on the ground behind them. He could feel Sara though, sharing the moment with him.

“Ian, I’m sorry. I just keep sticking my foot in it today,” she’d said, moving closer to him.

“No, Sara, not at all. As you said, we need to get to know each other better if we are going to...well, that includes the good and the bad. He was a good man, but it left us with a decidedly large hole and while my father is very hands on....”

“You mean he’s a control freak,” she’d commented. He’d wanted to say something, to refute her, but she wasn’t wrong. “I’ve seen a lot more of that man working in the last couple of weeks, and Miss Leighton, too. I hope he pays well, she’s...”

“He does, and yes, he insists on a great deal more direct control than his peers. He does not micromanage, but he expects those he hires to know exactly what is going on, and to be prepared to answer to him.”

“Like I said...”

He shrugged. “When all was said and done, the work was there. I started, and...”

“And never stopped.”

“Exactly. I expanded the team and I do have people who handle things, individual divisions, projects, but for his personal security, there are very few I trust.”

Sara’d just nodded. She started to shiver. The fall sun hadn’t been all much that to begin with so he had urged her back to a door into the lower level. There they had run into Jake MacCartey, duffle thrown over his shoulder.

“Hey guys, was looking for you. Going to say my goodbyes. The two liaison officers are set up in the staff room, and they haven’t killed each other yet. Wilson decided it was the closest to this door and the least intrusive. I know you don’t want them really inside the house. I gave all the details to that woman, the little Spanish...Rodriguez...” he said vaguely, miming someone shorter than him.

“Ramirez, Marianna Ramirez, she’s O’Connoll’s second. You haven’t met her,” he’d explained to Sara. “She has been handling things from the outside. You would like her.”

“Cute too, but anyway, Cook set them up with one of those coffee urn things and some sandwiches and snacks, so they should be good and not be bugging you. Now, I’m headed home. Thought I would sleep in my own bed tonight.”

“You don’t need to go, MacCartey,” Ian had told him. “We have plenty of room and I’m sure Mr. Irons would not...”

“In this house, I’d be surprised if he noticed,” Sara’d added.

“Nah, thanks for the offer, I would, really I would, but I’ve got to get that paperwork in on the guy I shot last night, this morning, whatever. Figure the sooner I get it in...”

“Yeah, well considering, I’m betting it’ll disappears two minutes after it goes in, with nothing said about it,” Sara commented.

“I know, right? But besides...” he leaned closer to them. “I gotta get back to kissing Dante’s ass, keep an eye on him until, you know...”

“Yeah, got it. I’m taking PTO tomorrow. Do me a favour, if you’re going to arrest him, give me a heads up. I need to be there to see it.”

“You got it, Pez,” he said, giving her a quick hug before shaking hands with Ian. “See ya later.” Then he’d gone out the door.

“I wonder what they did to annoy Cook,” Ian mused.

“What do you mean?”

“She disapproves of coffee urns. Surely you noticed that she...”

“Yeah, I did kind of wonder. I mean your boss hosts some big parties...” They had both reverted to the distance Ian usually maintained without thought. “I just figured she was keeping an eye on them, like everyone else. Maybe she’s just tired?”

“Perhaps,” he’d told her, but he didn’t sound convinced. “Would you like a swim before dinner? I suppose, since they are in the staff room, we could eat in the small dining room, or...”.

“Or?” she’d asked.

“Or we could eat in my room?” he’d asked cautiously. “I would like to have you to myself.” It had been a bold statement, and he’d startled himself when he said it, but it was true. He smiled at her and she returned it. So far they had limited themselves to a few heated kisses, and he was curious as to where things would go. Not that he would push, ever, but still.

“Your room,” she’d said finally. “Then, we’ll see...”

“Sara, I didn’t...I don’t...” he stammered, sure that she had gotten the wrong idea, well, the right idea, but still.

“One thing at a time, right?” Sara said, smiling. “Now, swim?”

Now, they were alone in his rooms, curled up on the settee. After her swim (he’d not joined her due to a few last minute things that needed his attention), he had sent her back to his room to get a shower, and gone to speak to his father. He was not entirely sure that Irons was as accepting as he acted, or perhaps it was just the change. His father wasn’t as good with some changes as with others, and this was a very big change. They had eaten a large dinner with their chairs close together, and now Sara was in his arms, while they exchanged kisses, and she asked random questions.

“Ian, do you have any tattoos?” Sara asked, turning her head more comfortably into him.

“I do,” he said, pulling away just a little. He was still wearing his long sleeved tee shirt, but he shoved the sleeve up. “Black dragon.”

“How did I _not_ notice that?” she asked.

“We have been a little busy, besides...” He stopped, not wanting to point out that they had been more or less ignoring the growing attraction between them, which meant ignoring a lot of things. “If you didn’t know, why did you ask?”

“Nothing, just something Danny said to me,” she told him, tracing the design with her finger. He shivered at the touch and pulled her closer to him. Sara was thinking. She had always wanted a guy in her life who enjoyed a good fight, a good bike, and who enjoyed kissing for its own sake without pushing things further, and here was Nottingham, arms around her, no attempt to push, no wandering hands, he’d not even suggested joining her in the shower after her swim, but she knew he was attracted to her and their kisses had been more than a little heated. Of course things had been pretty intense the last few days, and they were both probably running low on adrenaline. _Or maybe he’s afraid you will change your mind?_ the voice in the back of her head whispered. Ignoring it, she shifted in his arms, and he leaned down for another kiss. But this time they didn’t break away. Instead the kiss intensified. Her hand found its way into his long hair and she was pulling him even closer if it was possible. When they finally broke away, they were both breathing harder.

“Sara...” he whispered, the sound soft and hungry.

“Slow, right,” she said, though whether she was trying to convince him or herself, she wasn’t sure. “I’m just...I’m going to...” she stood up and headed for the bathroom. “Maybe you want to change into something more comfortable?”

As she closed the door, Ian let out the breath he was holding. He was trying to be careful, really he was, to allow her to set the pace. Unfortunately his mind and his body seemed to have different definitions of slow. In addition, he was acting on pure instinct. Freed, he was finding himself drawn towards actions that, while he was absolutely certain were what he wanted, still, he was afraid of doing something wrong and ruining things. Instead of thinking any further, he rose and pulled a tank and some pyjama bottoms out of the drawer. No assumptions.

 

Kenneth Irons sat in the great room of the mansion. He’d changed clothes, feeling the house was enough his again that he could be comfortable, the red dressing gown warm against the slight chill in the room, though the fire was burning. He had a glass of brandy in one hand and was contemplating whether to get a book while he waited. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was he was waiting for, but it was coming soon, and if there was to be a confrontation, he preferred it on his terms. Besides, there were fewer things in this room to break.

Wilson had checked in on him before retiring with his wife to their little cottage on the other side of the estate. At least they would be safe. Ian was off with Sara, doing, well, he had a good idea what they were involved in and he didn’t want to think about that any more closely. He just needed to leave them to it.

Suddenly he heard the ventilation system cut out, and the few lights in the room died. The power had been cut. _One thousand one, one thousand two..._ the emergency back up didn’t come on. Kenneth sat for a moment, thinking. A part of him really wanted to finish this himself, but the other part, the part that, as he told Elizabeth, was _not_ suicidal, knew better. He heard a creak, and the door open. “Hello, Kenneth.” He dropped his shields.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there will be more tomorrow, but I’ll not apologise for feeling just a little evil tonight. Do the thing you do.


	57. The right dragon

“What the...” Sara started. An alarm started to blare, and at the same time, something, a feeling tore through her.

“Father,” Ian said, leaping out of bed. He had gone from passion to feral anger in the blink of an eye. Sara reached out and grabbed his discarded tank top, throwing it on as they grabbed their sidearms and ran. “Great room,” he said.

“You go up, I’ll go down,” she said. “Overwatch.” He didn’t answer, he didn’t need to. They both knew something was very wrong. Even as they ran down the dark service corridor a door opened and a figure stepped out. They both raised weapons.

“Sir, what...” It was Nikolai.

“Irons, they are going for him, possibly us as well,” Sara said succinctly.

“Upstairs, take the service corridor, if they are going for us, they have no way of knowing we aren’t still there, but Immo and Miss Leighton are. We are going for Irons,” Ian ordered. “If you find any of our people, take them with you, you have my permission to shoot anyone else.” If the other man had questions, he didn’t ask them. The emergency lights had not come on and there was no sign of anyone else as they rushed on.

Nikolai broke away at the back stair case that led to the corridor that the other guests were staying in, while the two of them rushed on.

 

David Immo was sitting up in his room reading a medical journal when the lights cut out. After everything that had happened, he’d decided to stay the night, just so he could check on Ian tomorrow. Years of experience, and a good understanding of the household, told him when the emergency lights didn’t cut on that this was danger. He rose and grabbed his bag. It was the work of seconds to fill the pressure syringe and drop a few more vials in his robe pocket. It was all he had.

He peered out into the hall. No one. The doctor was certain that Ian was still with his detective down in his room, and Kenneth didn’t sleep much, still that left him and Irons’ assistant. All he needed was to buy a little time, long enough for security to catch up. He knew something was badly wrong, but he still put the odds on Ian and Sara, and the Witchblade.

Stepping quickly across the hall, he pounded on Miss Leighton’s door. After a moment, she answered, looking like he’d just roused her from sleep. “The house is under attack, I don’t have details, but the power has been cut.”

“I don’t...” she started.

“Lock your door and don’t open it until you hear from one of us, then hide. I doubt they can get through the door easily, but make sure you aren’t on the other side of it,” he said quickly. She nodded and closed the door. He waited to hear the lock, but he could also hear something else, footsteps. He had locked his own door behind him, now, thinking quickly, he stepped into one of the bedrooms that was unoccupied. This was a tactical team, if he had to gess, with inside knowledge. Immo just hoped this worked, he was a doctor, not a soldier.

 

“Carter. Crawled out from under your rock I see,” Kenneth Irons said, not bothering to turn. There was no surprise in the cultured voice. “I believe I told you that you weren’t welcome in my home. I suggest you leave before Ian gets here. He will not be feeling particularly lenient, and I certainly won’t stop him.”

“I don’t think so,” Carter said, pointing a pistol at him. “Nottingham is still weak from the drugs, and even if he isn’t, he’s probably too busy with that detective of his, but even so, James has taken a couple of men to get him along with that doctor you brought in. I did a little digging. How much did he have to do with developing the Black Dragon protocol? I always knew you left something out, something that made Nottingham different. But soon I’ll have it all and then, well, I’m afraid there will be no more use for you.”

If Carter had been waiting for a response, he would be waiting for some time. Kenneth Irons turned cold, green eyes on the man and said nothing. “This could have all been avoided you know. All you had to do was let me have Nottingham. The papers and files would be nice, but with him, I could have finally figured it out, the secret that would make the project work,” he said. “Now I will have it all. Collins,” he called and another man appeared from the hall. “The office in there, everything should be on the computer.”

“It might take a couple minutes to crack his security,” the other man told him.

“Just do it,” Carter growled.

“If that was all you wanted, why kill the others? Why not simply come for Ian? But it was never just about Ian was it?” Kenneth asked, brining the intruders attention back to him. He shifted slightly in his chair and raised his glass.

“Don’t move,” Carter said, waving the gun at him.

“Or what? You’ll shoot me? I’ve been threatened by better,” he said derisively. “Besides, you don’t do your own dirty work.” Irons knew he was goading the man, but he needed to know what he was up to and buy time.

“And you do?” Carter retorted. “But no, or rather, I won’t kill you, not til we have what we need. But I’ve brought enough help.” His eyes shifted up, not much, but enough for Kenneth to know. There were more men on the balcony above his head, which meant they had the doors covered. _Not a bad tactic,_ he thought as he sipped his drink, playing at a lack of concern that he only partially felt.

“Well then what are you waiting for?” Kenneth Irons asked.

“Just waiting for them to secure Nottingham. I suppose we will have to kill his cop, but she’s useless. I’m a little surprised actually. You’ve always given him his orders, I am surprised you would risk giving him that much autonomy. We both know what Nottingham is capable of. One thing always puzzled me though, I never understood why?”

“Why?” Irons prompted.

“Why you kept him. Of course he would stay with you, like a dog with its master. Loyalty, it was part of the conditioning, but why him? What is it about Ian Nottingham that makes him different? You never said where he came from, and he has no past, or not a real one. All of his records are fake, I looked. So who is he and why is he different? What do you know?”

“I know many things,” Irons said. He could feel it, they were close, but he needed to keep Carter’s attention just a bit longer. “But why would I possibly share with you? I have...”

The heavy bronze doors flew open hard enough to bang back against the wall. From above, a shot rang out, striking the wall, but Sara Pezzini was already through, pistol in one hand, a metal gauntlet covering her arm as she dove into the room. Two more shots from the balcony. Carter turned up to see two figures fighting above him. A man ran out of the office , only to be shot from above. Carter considered, then raised the gun and aimed for the detective, firing two shots in rapid succession, one deflected off the armoured glove, the other took the gun from her hand. He turned and aimed at Irons. “I’ll kill him.” he shouted, knowing Nottingham could hear him. “I’ll kill both of them.”

It was only a split second, but Sara made the decision, she threw herself forward, sliding on the marble floor, the Witchblade raised with a chance to shield them both. She could only hope she was fast enough, she couldn’t deflect and return fire even if she had her back up, but she needed to distract him. How many shots? How many did the gun hold? But there was not other choice. She landed in front of Irons, the gauntlet raised as he closed on them. She knew there was no way she could protect them both easily. She looked at Carter, trying to anticipate which one of them he wanted worse.

“Carter,” Irons called. The man raised his head and looked at Irons. Then Sara saw it, like slow motion, the dagger that flew over her. One moment it was in the air, and then it seemed to appear in Carter’s throat. The slimy scientist dropped his pistol and scrambled for it.

 _Do not remove impaling object_ , Sara thought irreverently, remembering something that Vicki had told her. But there was nothing she could do. He pulled it free. Immediately, blood sprayed from the wound, covering him, the floor, and Sara where she was kneeling between him and Irons. Then he slumped to the floor.

Just at that moment the lights came back on. Someone had gotten to the power. On the balcony, they heard the sounds of the fight ending as a man in black came bouncing down the stair. Looking up, she saw Ian standing at the top, and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Are you injured, Sara?” Irons inquired. She looked down at herself. She was sticky with blood, the red blending with the black of Ian’s tank.

“I...yeah, the...” the Witchblade had retracted into the bracelet. “It’s all his. You?”

“I am uninjured, thanks to you,” he said.

“But where did...” Irons reached into his sleeve and pulled out a worn leather sheath. “You knew,” she accused.

“No, but I was prepared. I had...a feeling.”

“You could have been killed,” Ian growled angrily. His eyes had not lost their fury. “Both of you.”

“Peace, we have little time, and we are about to be...” There was the sound of running feet and O’Connoll and a man Sara had never see burst in, both armed. Behind them, more slowly, Henry Wilson appeared, a .308 cradled in his arms in a way that spoke of experience.

“Sir, are you...” Wilson started

“We are fine here. What is the status of the rest of the house?” Irons asked.

“Power’s back, they are takin’ the drugged ones down to the staff room,” O’Connoll said. “Tought you would need dis, boss,” he said, tossing a small case to Ian. He opened it and pulled out the earbud before handing the other one to Sara.

“Get back to Control, I want eyes on everything, and make sure the gates are completely locked down. No one gets in without authorisation,” Ian ordered. “Hank, you know...”

The other man, who had a long ponytail and looked as if he spent a lot of time outside, checked the man that Ian had pitched down the stairs and shook his head. “Not sure any of them made it onto the grounds when they realised they were caught, but I suppose I should see if the dogs have any treed, not to mention pick up any of the stragglers,” he said. Ian nodded. “Dad?” Henry Wilson just waved him on.

“The authorities have been notified, sir. It seems the coffee was tampered with. I’m sure the doctor will be able to see to them,” Wilson told him.

“Then he and Miss Leighton?” Irons asked, suddenly realising the implications. He had not been thinking about the danger to his assistant, or the doctor, a grave miscalculation that made him feel tired.

Ian, who had been listening with Sara to the mopping up operation, responded. “We sent Nikolai up on our way. He must have just woken up.”

“He would not have been affected anyway,” Wilson commented. “He doesn’t drink coffee. Cook is right put out, sir, I can tell you.” It was the only sign of a crack in his formal demeanour..

“Please convey my apologies. She...”

“She and Rose are checking the ones who were drugged, and tending to one of the intruders who had the misfortune of entering my wife’s kitchen with...ill intent. I am almost certain he will live, but she is not certain that she didn’t break the handle of her favourite pan. Now, if you will excuse me...”. Irons waved him away with what might have been a fond smile.

“Dr Immo and Miss Leighton are safe, sir,” Ian said. “The doctor was reading when the power went. He got her locked in, and then...sedated at least one of the tactical team. They are not sure they got everyone, but if they are loose on the grounds...” he shrugged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we are coming close to the end. With any luck there will be one more chapter. However, for the few of you reading this, yes, there are bits of a sequel. I won’t say anything about that though.


	58. Clean Up

They turned as they heard a scuffling sound in the hall. Nikolai and a slightly unfocused Anderson appeared, frog marching a bound Agent James in to them. The man looked at the body of Carter lying there, and his colour faded a little. “Look what I found on the stairs to back Nikolai up, a rat,” Anderson said. “Where would you like him?” Ian had a black look on his face and a pistol in his hand.

“Ian, no,” Sara said, putting one hand on his arm. “He’s not worth it.”

“He invaded my home, drugged my people as well as the others, and tried...”

“Ian, please, listen to Sara,” Irons said quietly. He knew that, while neither of them might have a chance individually, not in his current state, Ian would not stand against both of them. Slowly the pistol was lowered, but Sara did not take her hand off his arm.

“Take him into the office,” Ian said finally. “We can hold them there until...”

“Go ahead...” James started.

“Shut it, you,” Nikolai growled. “Or I will find a gag.”

“There is another one on the library level as well,” Ian said, seeming to have calmed somewhat, but he was still strung tight. The two men nodded and dragged James past the body of the hacker laying in the office doorway. “We will need to have O’Connoll check out his equipment and what he was doing.” He nodded to the body lying in the door.

As if on cue, over the radio, the little Irishman’s voice came to them. “Got company, sir. Local sheriff, and Rowlands. He’s brought a team wit’ ‘im. “

“That was faster than I was expecting,” Irons commented when word was relayed to him.. “Not the sheriff, he takes a particular interest in this area.”

“Who is up and able?” Ian asked.

“I’ve just sent Ramirez down to run their ID’s, twice, and...”

“I’ll go, sir,” Anderson offered. “As soon as we...” He tugged the disgraced agent, who gave them a black look, but at least kept his mouth shut. Nikolai had already started up the stairs to collect the other, moving aside the body at the bottom.

It was only then that the enormity of the whole thing began to settle on Sara. She had been in firefights before, more than once, but usually she was wearing more clothes, and the stakes...well... She looked down at herself. She was standing in the middle of a room with three dead bodies, covered in blood, wearing her sports bra and a tank that clearly wasn’t hers. “Sara, why don’t you sit,” Ian said as he felt the shock set in. That distracted him from his anger. He directed her towards a chair, but she resisted.

“Can’t, this scene is already...besides, I don’t want to ruin anything. I’ll...”

“Please sit, Sara. I think I can afford the upholstery bill,” Irons said with a touch of humour. “Meanwhile, we have preparations to make. We need to have everything arranged now, while we have some small privacy.”

“Nikolai, watch the prisoners,” Ian said as the other man came down the stairs, an unconscious man in black over his shoulder.

“If they give me trouble, I shoot them,” he said with a shrug.

“Nothing fatal,” was Ian’s only response.

 

By the time Rowlands, joined by Foster, Proctor, and the county sheriff, one Moreland by name, had made it up to the mansion, the place looked more like an armed camp than before. Floodlights were illuminating the exterior, and he saw what looked like flashlights on the grounds further out. He’d been frisked, twice, and had his identity double and triple checked. The butler who had admitted him before was openly wearing a pistol, and had an old .308 slung across his back. To add to that, the man was wearing dress trousers with a pyjama top. The effect should have been comical, but the man still managed to look as dignified as ever. They had been escorted by a man with two Rottweilers, both looking at the men as if they were waiting for the command to attack.

Inside the front hall there were two more men with weapons, Proctor’s, both looking a little groggy, one of whom escorted them to the great room. Once through the door, the scene was even more bizarre. Kenneth Irons was standing talking to the doctor in the far corner, while Sara Pezzini looked like she had been cast in a horror movie, covered in blood under which she was wearing a too big tank top, once black, and probably belonging to Ian Nottingham, who was without any shirt, wearing only pyjama bottoms, which made it fairly clear what had been interrupted, and Rowlands wondered how much damage was a result of that interruption, not that he particularly cared, considering. Then he took in the rest. There was a body in a large puddle of blood, not to mention blood spattered on pretty much everything on the wall where the fireplace and Irons’ chair were. Doctor Carter was lying in a pool of blood, a small dagger on the floor beside him, and a hole where his throat should be.

“What...” the sheriff stuttered next to them. “Who?”

“Which question would you like the answer to first?” Ian said sharply, clearly more dangerous and less patient than usual.

“The who is a fugitive we’ve been after,” Rowlands said to the man. “But what happened to him? I mean who...”

“That would be me, Agent,” Irons said. “You will find James and the rest of his team, those still living and moving under their own power, in my office. I would suggest you get them out of my house as quickly as possible.”

“I have a crime scene unit on their way as soon as your security lets them in. As to those guys, well, as soon as I get secure transport up here, I will be glad to take them off of your hands,” Rowlands said. Proctor started to say something, but instead he nodded, correctly assessing that this was not the time for agency rivalry. There would be plenty of work to go around.

“Very well, thank you. Ian...” Irons said, dismissing them and turning back to the doctor who was handing him a glass, before the man waved him over to Sara.

“So, James is still breathing,” Foster said, shaking Nottingham’s hand. “I’m a little surprised you didn’t blow his head off.”

“It was close.  But there was already enough of a mess to be cleaned up. Besides, Sara objects to my doing anything she would be forced to arrest me for,” he said with a shrug. “Handcuffs should be reserved for entertainment purposes only.” Irons coughed suddenly as the brandy went down the wrong way at his son’s comment. Sara considered making a few comments of her own, but seeing both Irons and Foster wrong footed, well, she smiled. She was starting to appreciate Ian’s sense of humour. If it kept him calm enough to not do anything drastic to James and Company until they were out of the house (and their hair) so much the better.

“So where do we start?” the techs said as they came through the door. “Coroner’s behind us, and there is a secure transport on the way up. This scene is...” he said.

“Nottingham, can we...” Foster said, nodding towards the office.

“Please,” he said, stepping forward to open the door. 

There was a small squeak of surprise from the direction of the door, and Irons looked up to see yet another problem he had not thought of. Elisabeth Leighton was looking into the room in shock. Of course she could not be expected to anticipate dead bodies strewn around and the last two days had been already difficult. He cursed as he saw her pale, and Kenneth knew he had to act quickly. He was most certainly _not_ going to lose the best assistant he’d ever had over this, but it would require delicate handling. He moved to intercept her, stepping aside only to allow the two crime scene techs and a couple of men who were probably from the coroners’ office to enter the room. Dr Immo was seeing to Sara, though it was almost entirely all for show, and Ian was standing near her, his focus on the lady, something which was probably safer for all. Foster and Rowlands were talking to the county Sheriff, explaining exactly why his best course of action was to stand back and let them handle everything, Proctor had gone to see to getting the injured team members who were being held in the staff room guarded by a group of very irritated men, his and theirs, with guns, so Irons felt free to take care of this other situation.

“Miss Leighton, what are you doing down here?” Irons said, trying to turn her attention on him. She was still standing unmoving when he slid an arm carefully behind her, guiding her away from the open door, putting himself between her and the bodies with the lightest possible touch considering his own condition and her current state. “Miss Leighton...Elisabeth,” he said more firmly. That got her attention, though she still seemed disturbed. “What are you doing down here?”

“I came to see if you needed...there was...”

“You needn’t worry. Everything is in hand,” he said gently. “You should...”

“With all due respect, sir, if you tell me not to worry my little head...” she started defiantly. She had been shocked, yes, but that was enough to reawaken the spirit he appreciated in her. That was more like it, the woman who had stood up to Carter, and to him afterward. That Elisabeth he could most certainly deal with.

“Not at all,” Irons said. “But we have all had a shock, _jah_?” he asked.

Elisabeth was surprised. It was the first time she could remember him ever dropping out of English unless it was to continue a discussion in another language, and his accent, usually faint, was more pronounced than ever. “Yes...” she answered slowly.

“Yes, so you see, there is no...” Kenneth felt something run through him, a burst of...jealousy? It was so close and so intense it took a moment to identify it as Ian’s and he turned to look back into the room. It was only then that he recognised _that_ problem for what it was. In the current situation, Ian was holding himself together, but he was also dealing with a lot of emotions he was ill equipped to handle at once. There were several strange men in the room, and suddenly his son had recognised that they were looking at Sara in a way that he didn’t like, and did not bode well for their continued longevity. Soon enough, Ian was also going to realise his own state of undress and that would not improve the situation. His son had nothing to be ashamed of, certainly, he thought, viewing him with an outsider’s eye, but he was not accustomed to being so very exposed in front of anyone, much less strangers, and he was already glaring at just about everyone. “Actually, there is something,” Irons said, formulating a plan. After all, Elisabeth needed to help, and he had learned enough about her to know she could not just be put off. Already she had challenged him despite her shock. But she could solve two problems for him.

“What is it you need, sir?” she asked. Work was the sort of thing that would center her.

“Find Mrs Hancock, she should be downstairs in the staff room. Both Ian and Sara require something more...substantial to wear.”

“Sir,” she started to say clearly believing she was being sent on a make work errand.

“Elisabeth,” he said, leaning down closer to her. “Ian is very private as I am sure you are aware, and, in addition to the recent shocks, the probability of him reacting badly should someone make an untoward suggestion...” He nodded his head towards where Sara was sitting answering questions from the doctor. It didn’t take drawing a diagram for Elisabeth to realise what he was implying. While Nottingham had never struck her as having a hair trigger, if there was ever a time, it was now. She just nodded and turned to go as Jake MacCartey came through the door, admitted more easily than most, a fact not lost on some of the agents.

“Mr Irons,” he said in passing, moving straight to Ian and Sara. Irons, reassured that his assistant was gone, followed. “Pez, Nottingham, what the hell, man?” he asked, shaking hands. “You...”

“I’m fine, Jake, or I will be when I get a shower,” she commented, looking down at herself in disgust. “A long shower.”

“How did you end up, well, you know...” her partner started.

“Looking like an extra from a cheap horror film? You want the long answer or the short one? Seriously, it all happened so fast. When I came through the door, someone, or maybe someones, opened up on me with some pretty heavy hardware. I...”

“There were two men on the library level,” Ian filled in. “I engaged one of them, but the other got off a couple of shots before he realised that I was there.”

“Yeah, anyway, then Carter started firing at me. I think that other guy got shot, but I was busy ducking. I lost my gun, grabbed that shield from the suit of armour...remind me _never_ to make fun of the decorations again,” she continued, as if thinking aloud, getting her thoughts in order, while telling the tale they had concocted before the circus had descended. It was even mostly true. “I was trying to get to Irons. I figured if I could keep him alive long enough for Ian to get control up above...I just wasn’t expecting...well, that,” Irons walked over and removed his dressing gown and handing it to Sara. Too big, yes, but better than her current state, especially for his son’s nerves with the room full of strange men, reducing the potential of more bloodshed.

“We haven’t photographed...” one of the techs began. Ian glared at him.

“You will need it in any case, I was also in the...path,” Irons said with distaste, looking at the gore splattered on the floor, the rug, not to mention various other things. “But at the moment, I believe the detective will be more comfortable.” The man looked at Foster, but the agent shook his head, this was not a fight anyone wanted to start, not now, not in this situation.

“Yeah, that was a hell of a throw. It’s harder than it looks,” Jake commented, trying to distract everyone.

“Practice, detective,” Irons said, dismissively. “It is an interesting skill, though I admit I never expected to have to use it, or not in that fashion.”

“Hey, it saved us,” Sara said. “I wasn’t sure I could protect us both.  I was trying to figure which one he was aiming for first.” It was said with exactly the amount of grudging respect it should have.

“Now, Mr. Irons, if we can start by interviewing you...” Rowlands began, as someone else came barreling into the room. The last person at least four of them wanted at that moment.

“Captain...” Jake started.

“Dante, what are you doing here?” Irons addressed him before anyone could get further. Ian was suddenly, visibly, on alert, while Jake, who seemed just as surprised to see the captain as he was, was clearly trying to find a way that this was not going to end badly, very badly. He was completely aware of the enmity between the captain and his partner, and so was Ian. Actually, even Irons probably knew.

“Two of my detectives involved in this...whatever it was,” the captain said looking around. “Naturally, I was concerned.” The look of worry on his face was patently fake.

“Detective Pezzini, the techs are ready for the GSR tests, the rest of you as well, though...Mr. Irons, you said you did not use a firearm tonight?” Rowlands asked. He had been briefed, at least a little, by Proctor, and from the look of things, what he had learned about the relationship between the detective and her captain convinced him that they needed to get everyone separated.

“No, Agent. Admittedly, had I known...”. Internally, he was calculating how to get rid of Dante. Ian was on a knife’s edge and this was only going to make it worse. Perhaps he should have withheld his approval of their relationship until things had been settled, but he had not foreseen this, not the first miscalculation he had made tonight, he admitted to himself. Oh, he had been expecting _something_ , though he had been considering subterfuge, one or two men, not a tactical team. But now he had to play the cards he had been dealt. Kenneth remembered when he had first connected with Dante. Renfrew, Ian’s predecessor and mentor, had never liked him either, though he had acknowledged his usefulness. Of course, as he had told Irons once, it didn’t much matter, as he suspected he would have to kill the crooked policeman eventually. Ian had shared that sentiment, added to by the man’s hostility towards Sara, and his role in removing her mentor. Dante had never stopped hating her, an inheritance from his hatred of her father. Irons had never met James Pezzini, but by all accounts he was exactly the polar opposite of Dante, an honest policeman, _Paradiso_ for him, not _Inferno_.

In his long life, Irons had met enough of both types to have a great deal of respect for the honest ones, and an equal disdain for the others, despite their usefulness. Ian would be disappointed that he would not be allowed to cope with the man himself, but seeing Dante arrested would give him a small bit of satisfaction without the other difficulties. Besides, Ian could always have a conversation with the man later, in private, much like the one he had once had with the late Thomas ‘Killer’ Gallo. That was another thing that would require thought. There were changes that were going to need to be made, new and different solutions, but those were considerations for a different time.

“Yeah, well,” Foster put in a little distractedly. “And we are going to need your...clothes.” He tried not to look at the detective and her extremely dangerous boyfriend.

“I have sent my assistant and the housekeeper to bring some clean clothes,” Irons said, looking at the blood spattering the cuffs of his pants and wishing he had asked for some for himself, especially as he did not want any more of these people deeper in his house.

“You will need an agent with you, you understand, chain of custody...ummm.”

“I’ll go with Nottingham,” Jake volunteered. He had a pretty good idea about how well Ian was going to take this, and figured he was probably the safest, at least in the room and not Sara. “I’m not an agent but...”

“But you’re law enforcement, you’ll do,” Foster said with what might have been a sigh of relief. “We have a female tech coming for you, Pezzini, and...”

“Well, since Captain Dante is already here, surely he can accompany me, save taking anyone else off more important work,” Irons suggested, wanting to not only get the man out of the room and away from Ian, but to have a few well chosen words with him. “The sooner you finish, the sooner I get my house back.”

“Ah, yeah, sure, anything to help,” the police captain agreed.

“Good, Sheriff Moreland and his men are helping us with transport, and Proctor is working on getting the wounded secure transport. Most of our people are coming around, but your doctor is down there making sure. Plus apparently there is a serious head wound that requires some treatment.”

“Excellent,” Irons responded. The coroner’s men were rolling out the bodies, and he saw Miss Leighton and Mrs. Hancock in the doorway. “I believe that we can get on with this then.”

 

Dante followed Kenneth Irons into a bathroom not much smaller than his first apartment. He had a feeling the man had something he wanted to say, privately. “Why are you really here, Bruno?” Irons asked as the door closed behind them. He was already unbuttoning his top in preparation to change into the clean clothes his assistant had brought, once again anticipating his need. He had no desire to continue in his current state himself.

“I told you, I wanted to know what Pezzini and...” the captain said, turning his back on Irons.

“Let us be clear. I am _not_ interested in your feud with Detective Pezzini, and certainly not in having you continue it in my house,” he told the man, dropping the shirt into the large evidence bag Dante was holding out.

“Yeah, well, what is Pezzini still doin’ here anyway?” he asked. It sounded like he would have made another comment if Irons had not interrupted.

“Detective Pezinni was invited to stay as a guest in my home after the rather dramatic events of the last twenty four hours or so, as was Detective MacCartey. I gather they spoke and he decided to return to the city, something about a shooting review. Regardless, she and Ian Nottingham were present and came to my aid, that is all you need to know.”

“Wonder how that happened, I mean both...” he sneered. Of course it would have taken someone even more blind than Dante not to notice that Sara was wearing very little under the borrowed robe.

“Captain Dante, let me give you some advice. The last few days have been difficult for all of us. Don’t provoke Nottingham, you will _not_ like the results.”

“No offence, Mr. Irons, but I ain’t afraid of your pet freak,” he shot back.

“Let me put in another way then,” Irons said as he moved to face the other man, now that he was partially clad, his green eyes locking on to Dante’s. “Don’t provoke _me_. You will find I make a very bad enemy. Do we understand each other?” He dropped the pants into the bag and turned his back again to finish dressing.

“Of course, sir,” he growled respectfully, just barely.

“Excellent.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, maybe more than one more chapter, but its a big mess to clean up. Please enjoy and do that thing you do.


	59. Strategy

“Sorry about this, dude. I thought...” Jake said awkwardly as they closed the door to a small side room.

“And I do appreciate it, Jake,” he said as he turned away.

“Yeah, well...damn man, what happened?” Jake exclaimed suddenly seeing the scar.

Ian looked over his shoulder. “Bullet,” he said dismissively. “An attempt on Mr. Irons’ life, it was a while ago.”

“And that?” the faux rookie asked. He wasn’t sure it was necessarily a good idea to pry, or to look that close, although he was pretty sure Ian was not going to get the wrong idea, unlike his boss, but that was Dante’s problem.

“Training accident. I appreciate what you are trying to do, Jake, distracting me, but I am certain that Sara will be fine, at least now that she is away from your boss.” He didn’t add any of the obvious things about what would happen were she not. Instead he dropped his pants in Jake’s bag, and continued to dress.

“Hey, not mine, not really, I’m just playin’ the part. What about Irons, do you think Dante...”

“Irons can handle Dante, have no fear there. I suspect that he is busy making it clear that he has an interest in both you and Sara, in your careers and that, if the Captain wishes to stay out of trouble and on his good side, he will back off. It should keep him off your back until you are ready to make your move.”

Jake was shocked. He knew Irons was powerful, he’d seen it first hand, and he was definitely willing to protect Sara for Ian’s sake (though what the relationship was there, he still didn’t know, and hadn’t found a good or safe way to ask), but that he would get covered under that umbrella was a little surprising to him. “That’s...ummm...”

“Mr Irons appreciates your help in all of this,” Ian said, pulling on the black tee shirt. “And he always pays his debts. Besides, his protection might prove useful to you, especially if Dante thinks you have powerful connections, it makes you more useful.”

“Yeah, about your boss,” Jake said cautiously. He wasn’t sure he should be asking this question, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know but still...

“Yes?” Ian asked, turning as he tucked the shirt in.

“I know that he and Lynn....But, well, was he...you know, flirting with me?”

Ian smiled. He had been wondering if Jake would dare to ask. He was certain the man had noticed, that was entirely the point, to keep him looking elsewhere. Of course, his master would continue just for the amusement of it. “I would say that he was primarily testing your response, teasing a bit. That’s not to say if you were interested that he...well, he wouldn’t have done if he wasn’t willing to follow through.”

“Nah, no way. I’m...ummm, but he and...”

“Mr Irons is a man of...broad tastes,” Ian responded carefully after a moment. “But I very much doubt he was making a serious effort. If he was, there would be no question. He will take no offence either.”

“That’s okay, thanks. I suppose I should be flattered, or something,” he said with a twisted smile that looked more like a grimace. Ian resisted laughing.

 

The two men returned just as Irons and Dante were entering from the other side. Of course, Sara would take longer, but Rowlands waved Irons over. “Are you ready for your statement?” he asked.

“Yes, let us go into the office, now that it is more or less free,” Irons suggested as he stepped out of the way of a technician. As they stepped through the door, yet another technician, this one accompanied by Ramirez from his own security, were finishing conferring and she indicated that he could remove the equipment the dead hacker left. She nodded to Irons and continued out to where Ian was standing.

“Got nothing, sir,” she called to Ian. “Not a bad set up, but not in our league.” Having given her expert opinion, she turned to her counterpart, no doubt to get out of the way. “If he thought he was going to crack our system with that...” She smiled, shaking her head.

“Not a chance, at least not in anything like a reasonable time,” her counterpart agreed. “You’ve got a sweet set up.”

“Thank you,” Ian said to them. “Ramirez, You can...”

“Back to control, I know. O’Connell has some things for you, so I’m needed to take over,” she said, leaving.

 

“I’m going to have to take photographs first, you know,” The tech said as Sara pulled off the robe that Irons had loaned her. She honestly would have refused it, had there been another choice at the time, but she didn’t want to have to teach any of those guys a lesson or have Ian do it, possibly both of them. Now, after all that had happened, she suddenly felt really tired. She just wanted a long shower and to curl up in bed with Ian, even if they didn’t get back to where they were when they were so rudely interrupted.

“Yeah, I know the drill, not used to this side of it though,” Sara said. “You’re going to need this.” She handed her the robe. “I’m pretty sure that Irons got some of it.”

“I saw, that was...”

“Tell me about it. Can we hurry? I really need a shower, this is starting to itch and well...”

“All right, so you know what I need,” the woman said, and they began the routine. “Okay, that’s done,” the tech said after she had taken enough pictures that Sara was tempted to ask if she was starting a scrapbook. “Someone brought you some clean clothes.”

“Good, you can have these. In fact, don’t give them back, really,” she said as she looked at the tank top in disgust. “And of course this was my favourite bra.”

“I hear ya. So can I ask a kind of personal question?” the tech said, looking very carefully at the evidence bag.

“Sure, I guess. I might even answer,” Sara commented tiredly. _Here it comes_ , she thought.

“So that guy...”

“Irons?”

“No the other one, tall, dark, and deadly. You guys really...” Sara wondered if she was asking for herself or if she’d been ordered to double check them for some other form of alphabet soup. “I mean, Irons...”

“Ian and me, yes, it’s why I got pulled for this babysitting gig in the first place. I’m pretty sure Irons is still single, at least as far as I know, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No, no, I was asking because...well, none of you were exactly dressed, and the shirt, the robe...”

“Irons loaned it to me after. Ian and I were trying to relax when they hit. Not like I...” Sara responded hotly.

“Sorry, nothing meant by it,” she said. “Just trying to label things so we know what we are looking at. Believe me, I get the inconvenient timing thing. Now, that partner of yours, he’s more my speed.”

“Yeah, not exactly 9 to 5, either of us. Jake’s also still free as far as I know though, if you’re interested.”

 

Jake watched as Rowlands and Irons went into the private office, closing the door with a decided click. Ian had wandered off to confer with Nikolai, leaving Jake with Dante. _Probably better for Dante_ , Jake thought.

“Since when you chummy with Nottingham?” the captain growled quietly.

“Huh? Not chummy exactly, sir. But considering everything, we’ve spent a lot of time together, not to mention getting kidnapped together. Nottingham...I think he trusts me, at least a little.”

“You think so, do ya?” Dante asked incredulously. “He don’t do dick without Irons’ say so.”

“Not...” he started, but decided against it. Let Dante have his preconceived notions, easier to deal with that way. “He trusts me more than the rest of these guys anyway,” Jake continued, trying to sound a little defensive. _Play the naive rookie_ , he thought. “Besides, like you said, assignment like this, Irons...good for my career. Especially after all that’s happened. Maybe some stuff...” He shrugged.

“Wish I know what they were up to,” the captain said quietly, shooting a dark look to where the man stood, giving and receiving orders.

“You want, I can go ask Nottingham, you know, volunteer to help out. I’ve been around, know something about the layout and the set up. Find out what the deal is.”

Dante looked at him as if appraising him for something. “Could be,” he acknowledged finally. “You do that, and I’ll want you to report to me my office tomorrow morning, first thing. I might even have an assignment for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep thinking it’s the end, but it’s not. Please do that thing you do.

**Author's Note:**

> So, there are a lot of reasons I'm posting this. At least one is that, in the nature of muses, and after close to twenty years, mine for this story came back and decided to peck at me. Also, my sister is very fond of this story. If you are reading it, please comment. If you wandered over here from one of my other stories...well, all I can say is, if you like it, answers will be inside, knowing the source material is only a guideline.


End file.
